


Long Train Runnin'

by des_oiseaux



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: And angst, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian AU, N.B! a few references of epilepsy, N.B.! one later scene includes cancer, N.B.!- hospitals, a lot of chicago jush, a lot of love, i think, passionate-artist-katya, soft-nerdy-trixie, some country jush, some trains, they're nerds i would say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-17 06:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/des_oiseaux/pseuds/des_oiseaux
Summary: Sometimes life gives you lemons,sometimes life gives you a best friend.And sometimes you fall madly in love with that best friend. At least in Trixie's experience. But she's also experienced how life can take it all away again. How it can take away the one person you wish would never leave your side. Life's not always what you make it.But, when that one person turns up at your doorstep five years later, does that knowledge do any good?





	1. Sweet, Sweet Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> hey, you human person! i've been waiting a long while to share this, so i hope it will bring you joy this pride month!  
> this story is based on the song "postcard" by first aid kid, the title from the doobie brother's song. i hope you'll enjoy! <3

The brakes on the old bus whine loudly as the vehicle comes to a stop. Outside the dusty windows is the exit to a country road so bumpy only the locals dare drive on it, and golden cornfields as far as the eye can see. Trixie has to unstick her bare thighs from the seat as she gets up, the bus acting like a microwave for the few people still on it. An old lady gives her a weird little smile as Trixie grabs her pink suitcase from the parcel shelf, so she hurries to nod to the driver before she jumps the few stairs down from the bus, landing on the boiling hot asphalt. Heatwaves rise towards the blue sky as Trixie crosses the road, setting up the trail to her old neighborhood. 

Back in the day she walked this trail every day when she got home from school, from when she was a little girl with pigtails at kindergarten and through her senior year in high school. She usually wasn't walking alone back then, stomping on the cracked dirt with her earbuds in like she is now. The sound of Emmylou Harris is ringing loudly in her ears, a futile attempt not to think about the person she wishes she was walking with right now. 

After about fifteen minutes of walking she arrives at the intersection to the even more scrawny road where her old home lies. The road only holds five brightly colored houses and an old newsstand, in addition to quite a few farm animals and a whole lot of trees. When she climbs up the front stairs of her house her suitcase is feeling ten times heavier than when she started. Opening the front door, she is met by a very enthusiastic Gram, barking and running around in excited circles. 

"Yes, good Gram, good dog," Trixie says, pushing her suitcase into the hallway and greeting Gram with a big hug. 

"Trixie? Is that you?" Her mom shouts, and a second later Trixie can hear footsteps coming towards her. 

"No, this is a burglar whose sole purpose is burgling your home," Trixie says at her mother who has appeared in the doorway, rising from her crouch on the floor and moving to give her mother a hug as well. 

"Darn it, we should've locked the door," her mother replies, smiling and locking Trixie in her embrace. Trixie's mom smells like apples and fabric softener. The whole house smells like apples and fabric softener, really, but that's just something Trixie notices now as she doesn't live here anymore. Today it also smells like something else though, a warm daft of something nice coming from the kitchen. 

"Lasagna?" Trixie draws back from her mother, looking round her shoulder suspiciously. 

"Yes, and it's very vegetarian, Daisy." 

Trixie 'woo'-es and starts pushing her suitcase in the direction of her bedroom, feeling her stomach growl impatiently at the thought of cheese and pasta.  
Her bedroom looks like it did at Christmas, just now bathed in sunlight; the soft pink bedsheets, the worn pink carpet, the posters on the wall, and under a brightly colored painting, her cat, sleeping with her arms stretched above her head. 

Trixie leaves her luggage by the door and lies down on the bed, careful not to scare Moo-Moo. Needless to say, Trixie and her brother had named the dog, and her sisters had named the cat. 

"Yes, Moo, ah- you're a lovely girl," Trixie pats her cat slowly, feels her purr through her tiny body. She'd easily fallen asleep right now, next to her warm and calm cat, had it not been for how hungry she is. Luckily her mother shouts for her to come to the kitchen not much later, frightening Moo-Moo, but pleasing Trixie. 

 

*  
"Where's June?" Trixie looks up from her plate, balancing another forkful of eggplant and cheese elegantly. 

"Oh, she's just 'out on the town'," Lizzie says in a mocking voice. 

Trixie raises her eyebrow at her little sister, which earns her quite an impressive eyeroll. 

"I was not allowed to go 'out on the town' when I was 16," Trixie shovels the lasagna into her mouth, pointing her knife accusingly at her mother. 

"Maybe not, but I'm quite sure you and Katya snuck out quite a lot, anyway," her mom responds, giving her a little smile. 

Trixie draws in a sharp breath at the sound of Katya's name, but the other two don't seem to notice. 

"June's just at Ava's, though," her mom goes on. 

"'Just Ava's', yeah more like 'just getting stoned and coming home at 3AM'- on a _Thursday_ ," Lizzie says, and Trixie feels just the tiniest bit of gratitude towards her sister for saving Trixie from talking about Katya right now. 

That feeling doesn't last for long, though. 

When Trixie's clearing the table, Lizzie- her savior- being long gone to her bedroom, her mother inevitably brings it up again.  
"You know, I met Katya a couple of weeks ago. She's looking gorgeous- a grown woman. You should've seen her. All those angles- she’s really grown into them. And that beautiful smile. You know if she's got a boyfriend, Daisy?" 

Trixie swallows hard and is glad she's standing with her back to her mother, glad she can concentrate on loading the scrawny dishwasher. 

"No- um, I don't know. She might as well have a girlfriend, a- I don't know," her eyelids flutter involuntarily, and she tries hard to keep her voice even. 

"Ah, she's like you. I mean, not like you, not gay, but bisexual or pansexual or something like that, huh?" Her mom must sense how tense Trixie is, because she comes over to her, lays a soothing hand on her cheek. 

"Daisy? What's wrong?" 

Trixie feels pathetic, because tears are stinging in her eyes, stinging because of things she should have given up on a long time ago. 

Her mother gives her a concerned look, pulls her into a hug. Trixie can hear her steady heartbeat, and after some time she says softly, "you really miss her, don't you?" 

 

***

 

**14 years ago**

_When Trixie was little she didn't like meeting new people. Strongly disliked it, to be honest. Maybe it had something to do about her living far away from where everything happened, that she never really met anyone new, but that's hard to say now._

_Her shyness was the reason Trixie really didn't want to come say hi the day the new family moved in next door. Her mother wouldn't give up trying to convince her, though._

_"She's ten! Just one year older than you! And you always complain that you have no one to play with! Why you don't play with your siblings- that's another question," she said while stacking cookies on a plate for them to bring._

_"She's probably not nice. She probably likes to do stupid things. Like play horses or something," Trixie responded, giving her mom what she thought must be an icy cold look._  
  
_"You don't know that. Maybe she likes dressing up like you do! You know what?" Trixie had to look up at that, because her mother said it like she knew something very special, "I already know she likes to dress up."_

_"No way. Nu-uh. You can't know that. You haven't met her."_

_"Ah, but I do know, Daisy, I'm a psychic."_

_Trixie stuck her tongue out at her mom, said, "I'm not a daisy. I'm something pink. Not a daisy."_

_"Alright, Daisy," her mother said, giving her a wink._

_*  
Eventually Trixie agreed to go- mainly because her mother said she could have a Ninja Turtles ice cream when they got back home- but standing there on the unfamiliar front porch, she was beginning to have second thoughts. _

_"I could just run now. Hide under the bush over there," Trixie proposed to her mother, tugging at her woolen cardigan._

_It was too late by then, because in that moment the wooden door creaked open wide._

_Her mother smiled her warm smile at the woman in the doorway as Trixie ducked a little behind her._

_"Hi! We live next door! We wanted to bring you a housewarming gift! Trixie-" her mother stepped aside, exposing Trixie to the woman in that now was their neighbor, "I believe you have a daughter about Trixie's age?"_

_"Hello! That's so nice of you, I-" Trixie zoned out of the adult conversation, her nerves winning over her poor concentration, until the woman turned around and shouted something into the house._

_"Katya!"_

_Trixie blinked rapidly as a blurry bundle of energy ran out on the front porch._

_"That's me! She has arrived! What, what and what?" The girl stopped in front of Trixie and her mother, smiling broadly, two of her bright white front teeth missing._

_She was shorter than Trixie, although she was supposedly a year older. What she lacked in height she made up for in energy._

_"Katya, this is Trixie, and her mother. They're our new neighbors!" Katya's mother told Katya.  
"You're very pink," Katya said, and for a moment Trixie was concerned that this girl was a sceptic, but then she simply turned and ran back into the house, shouting "follow me!" _

_*_

_"You sound cool. Can you do the splits?" Katya said after Trixie had held her monologue about how she liked to play the guitar and read comics. Katya was practically bouncing on the dry grass in the backyard where they were standing._

_"No, I... no," Trixie shook her head slightly._

_"Then it's good that I can. If we're going to be best friends, it's good if we're not all the same." Katya then slid down into a split on the grass, arching her head back a little, her blonde hair hitting the ground._

_She smiled at Trixie, seeming almost uncertain for a moment, like she was scared Trixie would disagree. But Trixie didn't disagree. She liked this girl. So, she dropped to the ground next to Katya, gave her a big smile, said, "yes, that's good."_

 

*** 

Nostalgia is running through Trixie's veins as she walks through her garden. The tall, rough grass scratches her legs, and she almost regrets not changing into pants, but then considers the merciless heat and is content with her choice. The breeze doesn't do much, it just pushes the hot air around. It also manages to barely stir the green leaves on a big tree Trixie ducks under, the one close to the hole in the fence. 

Trixie remembers the day Katya's father made that hole, how excited they had been that they finally were closer together. Which was perhaps a little weird, considering that they were neighbors anyway, but it had made them happy nonetheless. Trixie has crawled through that hole so many times it feels as familiar to her as her old bedroom. 

Considering the size of the hole now, Trixie is amazed that she managed to get through it at all. 

She grabs a steel pole with her right hand, tipping one of her long legs over the fence, the other one following just behind. The operation goes quite smoothly except for her dress getting caught on some loose wire, making her swear loudly. 

Katya's garden looks quite like Trixie's, except that the side opposite where she's standing right now doesn't have a fence, it simply opens up to a path leading into the forest. Trixie picks her way towards the path, careful not to step in the flowerbeds. Her head hurts a little. It's hard to push out the vivid memories of how Katya and her stumbled drunkenly through this yard all those late nights. Katya was a master at discreteness, but Trixie- not so much. She would giggle like crazy, Katya hushing at her, punching her in the arm to shut her up. 

Now the yard is silent, with just the sound of a lonely bird squawking by itself, as if it's asking rhetorical questions. 

The path into the forest is uneven and rocky, but the air is a lot cooler as soon as Trixie gets under the cover of the trees. 

The forest is as untouched as one can imagine, it being in a place where no one ever really goes. The canopy of broad-leaves shut out almost all of the sizzling sun, just letting a few beams through to make a pattern on the damp earth. 

Trixie's legs move almost automatically, carrying her past tiny streams and jumping over gnarly roots, taking her to the spot where she deep inside knows she was headed from the beginning. 

It's the only place in a couple of miles radius where the leaves open up completely, leaving a bright, sunny space on the forest floor. It's shaped like a flower, the petals big and round. It has been this way since Katya and Trixie discovered it back when Trixie was in the fifth grade. 

Trixie sits down gingerly, feeling the leaves crunch beneath her- dried out from the sunlight shining down on them mercilessly all day long.  
It's peaceful here. 

The temperature is just right, the hotness of the sun mingling with the cool breeze in the forest. Creaks and swooshes sound between the trees, the forest living its own life, breathing and moving. 

 

*** 

 

**13 years ago**

_"Frank is a complete bitch, la-la-la la-di-da," Katya sang loudly, off-key, gripping the trunk of a big, weathered old tree. She kicked her leg up high, setting it down on the lowest branch._

_"That's a bad word, but it fits," Trixie commented, leaning against the tree and looking up at Katya where she was climbing expertly._

_"Hardly a bad word, Mattel. You know what's a bad word?" Katya called down from where she was high above Trixie's head._

_"What?"_

_"Frank."_

_Trixie giggled at that, said "I know it wasn't good of him to kiss Hailey right after he kissed you, but he's kinda nice, don't you think?"_

_"Nah, he's a bitch. I kissed Hailey too, and then he said 'ew, she's a girl', but I just kissed Hailey because I wanted to kiss Hailey, you know?" Katya said and leaped down from the tree, landing with a soft thud._

_"Why's there a forest here? Does it make sense? No. Will I enjoy it? Yes," Katya skipped around aimlessly, leading them deeper into the forest, perhaps without noticing herself._

_"My mom told me this myth," Trixie said, and at that Katya's head snapped around, "that there lives a creature here, or more like the forest is the creature, and she cares for all the people here. When you walk here, you walk inside of her."_

_Katya looked at her with big eyes, barely avoided getting her foot stuck in a root._

_"But it's just a myth, though. Stupid."_

_"Just a myth? Nothing's just a myth. I think all myths are truths, people are just stupid," Katya looked at Trixie, her expression serious._

_"That's a myth."_

_Katya laughed at that for a long time. A stupidly long time in Trixie's opinion. She was still laughing when they reached the sunny spot in the middle of the dark forest._

_"Look, Katya! Stop laughing! Look- a pretty flower."_

_Katya shook her head a couple of times, discovering the light in front of her._

_"I told you! It's not 'just a myth'!"_

_"It's only a patch of light, Katya."_

_"Ah. You see, that's where you're wrong, Mattel. It's so much more than 'only a patch of light'." Katya said, cartwheeling into the light, "it's the heart of the forest."_

 

*** 

 

Trixie smiles to herself where she's sitting- in the heart of the forest, nostalgia running through her veins. 

 

*  
"I cleared out the shed, Trixie!" Her mother calls over to Trixie where she's sitting in the weathered old couch, looking at some crappy reality tv. 

Trixie tugs at a loose string on the sweatpants she's changed into, mumbles "okay." She doesn't really see how this concerns her, but then you do get the most unnecessary information from the ones you spend the most time with. 

"There was an impressive amount of middle school tests," her mom is doing some bill-sorting by the kitchen table, but now she gets up, walks over to the cupboard where all the knick-knacks are. 

"Interesting," Trixie says, leaning her head back and squinting at the tv screen, the bright colors blurring together. 

"And guess what? I found a postcard," her mom rummages around in the cupboard, several pieces of rubbish falling out; an old toothbrush, some pencils and a pink sock. Which Trixie may or may not be the owner of. 

"Is that right?" Trixie leans back against the fluffy pillows, resting her head on the top of the backrest and looking up into the ceiling. 

"It has a llama on it," her mom says, and now Trixie is really wondering what this has to do with her. 

"It doesn't belong to June or Elisabeth, so it has to be-" her mother lets the rest of the sentence hang in the air, walking over to the couch, holding a tiny postcard in her hand. 

Trixie grabs the card from her mother and looks at it closely. The picture on the card is of a greenscreen, and in front of it is a- 

"That's not a llama, that's an alpaca." 

"Yeah, and I'm not a mammalogist, thank you very much," her mother dumps into the couch beside her and looks at the card, flipping it around. 

"It doesn't say anything." 

"No, but I know where it's from," Trixie replies and strokes her hand over the card's glossy side. "Katya gave it to me. She found it in a store in Boston, you know- in her first year." 

Her mom picks up the tv remote, pushes the mute button. 

"Was there ever anything between you, Daisy?" 

Trixie feels like she's been punched in the stomach. 

She did not expect _that question_ , at _this time_ , coming from _her mom._

"I-uh-Well," Trixie stutters, looking for the right words, "I'm...I- I guess." 

Trixie doesn't need to guess anything. She knows exactly what had been between her and Katya. But her mother doesn't need to know that. 

"You know what?" Her mother says, scratching her head, "I think you should write to her. You've got a postcard." 

Her mother puts the card in Trixie's lap, walks back to the kitchen table and throws Trixie a pen.  
"Write." 

And so, Trixie writes. 

 

*  
Trixie's wails and pulls the covers over her head as her mom wakes her up the next morning. 

"Why?! _Why?!_ Mom...no. I have...long weekend!" Trixie shouts groggily, her mind a cloud of incomprehensible thoughts. 

The clock over the stove reads 06:53 when she finally makes it to the kitchen, and that makes her wail even more. Her mom just shrugs and walks around the kitchen table, stops and pours some milk into June's cereal. June is looking like she's slept for about two minutes, her head almost dropping to the table, seemingly without her making any effort to stop it from doing just that. 

Her mom slams the milk down in front of June, which simply results in her jolting upright for a couple of seconds, before going back to her half-asleep state again. 

Trixie rubs her eyes and pours herself some coffee. 

"Are you going into town today?" Her mom asks- always early, painfully early, with the making of plans. 

"Think so," Trixie pours the tiniest dash of milk into her cup, stirs it around a couple of times. "Wanna come?" 

Lizzie- who just walked into the kitchen with a half-eaten apple balanced on a heavy stack of books- wrinkles her nose and says "mom's got work. What do you think we do out here? Drive around town every day?" 

Trixie sticks her tongue out at her little sister before taking a sip of her coffee. 

"Did you take your meds? I think you get a free period when they school play's on, they use floodlights, so you can do homework, or just relax-" mom says to Liz, in her typical concerned-mom-ramble. 

Lizzie groans. "I can go! Doc told us I'm not photosensitive! Plus, I haven't had a seizure in _three months,_ mom!" 

"Please, my little girl, I know Eva said so, and I believe her, but I don't like you taking risks," their mom goes on. Lizzie just hugs her books tight and stomps out the kitchen. 

June stirs a little at the noise, her head bumping against the milk jug. 

Her mom sighs, then picks up her breakfast. 

"Felicia is on a business trip to New York, and she said we can borrow her car if we need it. I'm thinking- what if I take her car and I'll let you take ours Trixie," her mom says, taking a bite of her muesli while simultaneously beginning to pack her purse and feed the pets. 

Trixie almost feels thankful that she'll get to drive, even though her head's too blurry for her to feel anything at all. 

"But then you've got to pick up June and Liza at school-" 

"The Middle School is a complete detour!" Trixie says, but she falls silent when her mother gives her trademark stern look. 

"And you take Gram with you. Okay?" 

Trixie just nods and goes back to sipping her coffee quietly. 

 

*  
When Trixie finally gets out of the house with Gram the fresh morning breeze is long gone, and the familiar stuffy heat of the Midwest is back in. It feels both weird and comforting to get into the driver's seat of her mom's old car, and memories rush back to her, as they always do when she's back home. Gram jumps into his seat happily, and he breathes heavily as Trixie stars up the car, waiting for the AC to kick in. She almost chokes the engine four times before she can get it running, and by then she's managed to dish out a quite impressive string of insults for the scrawny old car. 

In the glove compartment are stacks of mostly old CDs, a lot of them Trixie's, but a few of her sisters' as well. Trixie draws out some of them, wrinkles her nose a little at some very questionable 00s music, and pops Dolly Parton's _Jolene_ -album into the disk room, pulling out of the driveway. 

It takes an hour to drive into town, but Trixie has always found driving very soothing. She enjoys tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music, singing loudly like no one can hear her- because no one can. Except Gram, but he seems to be content. 

The scenery is stereotypical country- cornfields and blue skies, a big red farmhouse here and there. It moves past the car windows fast, blurring together a little, but not too much. 

Finding a spot to park in the small town is an easy job, at least compared to the trouble that it is back in Chicago. She gets out of the car in the parking lot at Applebee's, puts Gram on a leash and starts walking from there, not completely sure where she's going. 

She needs to get to the post office at least, but that can wait, Trixie thinks. She'd rather put that off for as long as she can. 

She follows Gram where he drags her around, which is mostly between shops and over lawns she's not really supposed to cross. The ground is radiating with heat here too, but because there are actual buildings there is also wind, and Trixie welcomes it gladly. 

At one point Trixie has to tie her shoelace and when she looks up, the post office is looming over her. She almost flinches- she must have zoned out at some point, because she can't recall at all walking up to the brick house. 

Gram pads over to the lamp-post by the entrance, sniffs around a bit, and sits down. 

"You-" Trixie points his finger at him, "this is your fault. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go here. You-" Trixie notices how stupid she must look, standing there complaining to her dog. So she ties Gram's lead to the lamp-post and stomps into the post-office. 

Posting the card is a battle with herself unlike anyone Trixie's had in a while. 

She stands by the red mailbox, staring at the card intently. Then she walks in big circles around the office, looks at an old woman who argues with an employee about stamp prices, and she bites her thumbnail nervously. 

Trixie didn't know she was capable of being this scared of doing something so simple. 

In theory it's just a card pushed through a slot. 

A piece of paper into a little metal box. 

Easy as that. 

But it takes a lot of courage for Trixie to do just that. When she finally manages to put it in she almost yells for someone to get it out again. Almost. But she doesn't. She just takes a deep breath and walks out. 

 

*  
_Dear Katya_  
_It's been a long time. Too long._  
_I hope you're doing good, because you deserve that._  
_I'm back home now. I can't seem to get all of the memories out of my head. But then why should I get them out of my head? The past lives with us, isn't that what they say?_  
_I live in Chicago now. It's beautiful. A lot less farms._  
_Love,_  
_Trixie Mattel_

 

*  
"Ouch! You hit me! Get off, Liz!” June pushes her sister into the sofa, allowing the other team on the tv screen to shoot down an elegant smash. 

“Shit, you gave them the point, June!” 

“Doesn’t my health matter more than fucking wii sports?” 

“Language! Good people don’t swear. At least not on a Sunday!” Trixie calls from the kitchen, where she’s replying to an email from her landlord. 

“I think your case is rather weak, Miss fuck-dip-shit,” Lizzie replies, waving her arm in an attempt to regain the lead in the tennis match. 

Trixie laughs at that, her voice sounding like a scream. 

“Trixie can’t you take over? You’re so much better at this. I’m playing with your Mii anyway,” June seems uncharacteristically frustrated where she’s standing, moving the console in jerky motions. 

“I’ve been slaying you in _Mario Kart_ for the past few days, and I don’t see it as fair. Also I’ve got to pack,” Trixie says, walking over to the couch to watch their slightly pathetic match. 

“Trixie, your Mii doesn’t look like Yii,” Lizzie says, failing her second attempt to serve. 

Trixie scream-laughs at that again, feeling that maybe she can take the credit for her sister’s ability to make bad puns. 

June looks serious, though, as if she just remembered something. 

"Trix, when you get back to Chicago, can you send me all the answers for my end-of-terms?" 

Trixie snorts at that, pats her sister on the shoulder and pads off to her room, the sound from the game dying out as she shuts her door. 

Then she starts packing the little stuff she’s brought, enjoying how she has time to fold every piece of clothing neatly. 

She also keeps getting the feeling of being in the past- but not in an entirely bad way. 

She looks at the painting Katya made for her- the one with the two people laughing in the rain, and she remembers vividly watching Katya paint that, her callused hands making precise movements with the bright colors- and all the while Trixie is still there, she’s lived all that she’s lived, and it feels nice. That we don’t always have to lose _then_ to be _now._

 

* 

The way back to Chicago is peacefully uneventful. 

The bus ride is pretty long, as well as the wait at the airport, but Trixie's got her earbuds, her comic books and her banana chips, which makes it all very bearable.  
When she gets on the plane the banana chips are gone, replaced by a sandwich from the newsstand which is suspiciously soggy in one end. 

The man seated next to her is old and very outgoing, and they end up talking quite a lot. He's going to see his son, who works in Chicago like Trixie. 

"And you, you're going home?" The man asks, his eyes friendly and warm. 

"I guess, but I'm also coming from home." 

"Two homes, oh wow! Do you like your homes?" The man asks, a broad smile on his face. 

Trixie nods and smiles at the man, says, "yes, I do like my homes." 

 

* 

There aren't many people to be seen when Trixie gets into town, it being a Monday afternoon, but compared to where Trixie came from the streets are bustling. 

The fact that the city's actually populated isn't the only contrast; the sky is also grey, the weather mild, and the pavement smooth. 

It took some time for Trixie to get used to the big city life- the noise, the smells and the people scared her at first, but it's grown on her. Like things tend to do. 

Trixie's apartment is in a brick building not far from the Grant Park, next to an old train station. Trixie is so lost in the sound of her suitcase rolling across the asphalt and the annoying sensation of a pebble in her boot that she almost walks face forward into a person when she finally gets there. 

She apologizes, taking a step back and laughing a little at her own carelessness. Then her heart stops. 

It must have stopped, but she can hear the blood rushing in her ears anyhow. 

There, on her doorstep, stands the woman with the short, blonde hair. The woman with the wire-framed glasses and the dark red lips. 

And all those angles. 

Trixie sucks in her breath involuntarily. 

"Katya."


	2. 1 Yard from Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello again! thank you so much for your comments, they make me so soo happy<3 here is another chapter for you, (if you want it) beautiful human person!

**10 years ago**

_Katya always knew she was different from the other people living in the Midwest._

_She didn't fit in at all. But that never mattered too much to her, really. She was at peace with being different._

_It took a long time for Trixie to realize how different Katya was, though. And her realizing that was what really broke Katya's heart.  
When Katya came home from her first day of high school, stormy clouds where looming overhead. Trixie was waiting patiently for her by the bus stop- sitting on the rough ground and reading her brightly colored comic book, biting her thumbnail like she used to. She would make quite the painting where she sat under the steel-grey clouds. _

_"Hey Wonder Woman, who left you in the ditch?" Katya called out to her, crossing the road._

_Trixie looked up at her, giving her a smile and reaching out her hand so Katya could help her up._

_"I've managed to leave myself in the ditch, thank you very much, I am a strong, independent-" Looking at Katya, Trixie paused in the middle of her sentence, "what's going on?"_

_"Nothing's 'going on'. Except from that 4 Non Blondes song," Katya started walking towards the trail, singing 'and so I wake in the morning and I step outside' loudly in an attempt to cut off Trixie's line of thought._

_"Yeah it is. You've been crying. Stop! Don't-" Trixie dodged around Katya, holding her face still so she could look at her properly._

_"You've been crying! Katya, what is it?"_

_Katya just brushed away her hands, saying as brightly as she could, "nothing, it's just the pollen."_

_"No, it's not. I know you're not allergic to fucking pollen."_

_Katya walked past Trixie again, and realized a second too late that that was a bad idea._

_"Katya?! What's that in your hair?!" Trixie held her back by her shoulder and grabbed her hair, discovering the fat piece of gum stuck in it. Katya hadn't seen the sticky thing, but she could feel it making a complete mess of her long, blonde locks._

_"Who did this?! Katya? Who did this to you?" Trixie's voice rose to a pitch, and she ran around Katya again, halted right in front of her, forcing her to stop too._

_Tears started welling in Katya's eyes again, blurring her vision. Katya never cried. But something about the way Trixie cared made her so incredibly sad. She sniffed._

_"I- no one. Well someone. No one you know."_

_"Oh no. They daren't. I swear I'm gonna-" Trixie growled, but Katya simply waved away her angry words._

_"They don't like-" Katya's voice wavered, "...different, you see.”_

_A lonely tear ran down her cheek, slowly._

_Trixie wiped it away with her soft hand, the hurt plain in her eyes. It looked like anger and sadness was conflicting inside her, fighting a battle none of them would win._

_She lifted Katya and carried her on her back all the way home._

_*  
"You're sure you want it all gone?" Trixie held the scissors up in front of Katya, clicking it a few times as if to demonstrate. _

_"Yeah. Make it short."_

_Trixie wasn't one for deep contemplation, so she simply began cutting, starting at the point where the gum was stuck; an ugly pink token of the evil that can be high school students.  
After lock after lock of light hair falling on the floor of Trixie's bathroom, Katya ended up looking like a new girl. A girl who didn't fit in, but, hopefully, wouldn't mind again. Still, maybe- _

_"What about bangs?" Katya said, looking up at Trixie with a raised eyebrow._

_Trixie bit her thumb nail, considering. Then she nodded, picked up the front parts of Katya's now-short hair, and kept on cutting, mumbling "your mother's gonna kill me."_

_*  
Trixie realizing how different Katya was may be the reason why she didn't criticize Katya for all the things she started doing that year. She didn't say anything when Katya started wearing heavy black eyeliner; she didn't comment on how dark Katya dressed; she didn't even criticize her when she started smoking –way too much. She did raise her eyebrows at the smoking now and then, but not in a hateful way. Because she understood. Anyway, it didn't change anything between them. _

 

*** 

 

Trixie looks better than anyone Katya can remember having seen in a long time. 

She stands out against the grey sky in her bright yellow overalls, looking prettier, curvier and healthier than ever. It almost hurts to look directly at her. And her hair- 

"Pink," Katya gestures towards the light pink messy bun on Trixie's head, feeling at a loss of words. 

Trixie blinks slowly, shaking her head and almost backing away from her. 

"You- you're..." She takes a deep breath and clenches her fists in a way Katya knows she does when she's nervous. 

"I'm sorry- I'm stressing you out, I shouldn't be here... I'm...I'll go," Katya drags her hand through her hair, making to leave again, wanting, needing, Trixie desperately to stop her. 

"No- don't. I'm just... come in," Trixie says, and Katya lets out her breath. She doesn't dare think about the pain she would have felt if she walked away right now. 

She simply follows Trixie as she enters the building through the front door, more than a little self-conscious. 

Inside is a hallway, lined with a row of white mailboxes, leading to a broad stairway. The walls painted a dark teal color, the paint chipping in some places. It would make for some beautiful photos, she thinks, making a note to snap some later. If she gets the chance, that is. 

Trixie's stopped right past the entrance, and now she glances at Katya for a second, looking like she has no idea how she should act. Exactly how Katya must be looking right now. Then she rummages in her pink purse, digging out a small key with which she unlocks one of the mailboxes. 

"I got your postcard," Katya says hesitantly while Trixie grabs her mail. 

Katya can see Trixie's trying to control her breathing as she locks the mailbox again. She looks up at Katya, her eyelashes fluttering. 

"That fast?" 

She takes Katya by the hand, leading her to the staircase, and it's no longer than a moment, but still it sends a jolt of energy through Katya. It also makes her wonder if coming here might be putting her sanity at risk. 

“My neighbor in Boston sent me a picture of it, I was already in town. I-" Katya says, looking up at Trixie where she's climbing the stairs, her suitcase in her hands. 

“Should I not have come, Trixie?" Katya's voice echoes a little against the walls. 

"No! No. Of course you should have." Trixie catches Katya's eyes, and her expression is sincere, almost concerned. 

Then she jerks her head upwards a little, says, "it's on the next flight. Come on." 

 

*  
"Your apartment is huge," Katya says when they step inside, because it truly is a big apartment. 

"I've got two roommates, though." Trixie pushes her luggage into the open space they've entered, which must be the living room. It's kind of messy, but cozy- the worn, earthy-colored furniture occupied by fluffy pillows, blankets and papers of all sorts. 

"And where are they?" Katya asks, taking in the room where it's bathed in the thin light coming from a couple of large windows. 

"At work?" Trixie says, a kind of 'duh'-tone to her voice. 

"Oh. Yeah, of course. And you?" 

"Not at work," Trixie says, smiling a teasing smile, glossy lips bent in a little half-moon. Her smile is contagious, and Katya can't help but smile like a fool back at her. 

"Seriously, though, I've had a long weekend off. I'm a midwife." Trixie crosses the floor and enters one of the rooms leading off the living room. 

The fact that Katya didn't know what Trixie works as before now makes her feel uneasy, stirring up an annoying sensation in her stomach. 

She follows Trixie through the new door then, realizing that it's slightly weird to stand frozen in her living room. 

The bedroom they've stepped into quite obviously belongs to Trixie. 

The theme in the small room is light colors and, not surprisingly, pink. The strongest color in the room is the dusty pink comforter on the bed, except for that it's all extremely light tones and flowy materials. The walls are covered in unorganized bookshelves- stacked full of mostly comic books-, vintage cartoon posters, colorful pictures, and to Katya's surprise, more than one drawing Katya must have made for her. Her face is also looking back at her from picture frames hanging on the light surface. 

Katya can't pinpoint the feeling this wakes in her, but she recognizes some guilt and a whole lot of sentimentality in the mix.  
Trixie doesn't notice the emotion flashing across Katya's face, she just sits down on the bed. She throws off her boots, says, "sorry, these are killing me," before grabbing another, lower pair from closet. 

While she puts on the new shoes Katya looks at her, takes in her movements. Lets it all wash over her like spring rain. It feels a little like watching her favorite movie again after a long, long time. 

"Why don't I show you Chicago?" Trixie says, getting up and brushing past Katya on her way out of the door. 

 

*  
"How did you fail to tell me that you already saw all of Chicago yesterday?" Trixie's walking besides Katya, and now she's giving her a skeptical look. 

"I-uh," Katya takes off her glasses and wipes them against her brown 'tree-hugger' shirt, looking for a good excuse. 

"Are there any good museums here?" 

It turns out pretty bad. 

If her life was a documentary, right now the narrator would say 'and so, she makes another poor save. Yet, that is a natural trait of this inelegant species'. The documentary would be rather frustrating to watch, Katya concludes. 

The sun peeks out from behind the clouds right then and lights up Trixie's hair, making it glow like a soft, pink halo. 

"Yeah, there's a modern one not far from here. Wanna go?" 

Katya just nods, not trusting herself to speak again. 

 

*  
There are hardly any people in the museum, which means they get to step through the brightly lit rooms almost completely alone, the only sound their footsteps echoing against the shiny surfaces. On exhibition are mostly paintings and photographs, but there are a few sculptures too. 

Katya finds it very hard to focus. 

The shapes on the canvases blend together in the background as she falls into a slow step slightly behind Trixie, her consciousness resting in a stage where it's content just watching the way Trixie walks. Her mind must have shut off completely, because when Trixie suddenly stops, it goes back into full panic mode again. 

Katya doesn't know how to act around her. 

Trixie's her best friend. And she doesn't know what she can and can't say to her. 

"You okay?" Trixie's stopped in front of a canvas sporting a single red splotch of paint above the words '50 yards from holy'. 

Katya lets her eyes sweep over Trixie for a moment; from the tucked-in hem of her yellow pants to the pale, frizzy hairs around her head.  
She tries desperately to figure out if Trixie's as out and running as Katya is. 

Her face is relaxed, but she's digging her neat, rounded nails into her palms. Her breath is even, but she's blinking more than average. Although, it hits Katya, she can't really remember what's average for Trixie. 

Katya swallows, turns to look at the artwork too. 

"Yuh." 

What's special about the painting in front of them is that there isn't anything special about it.  
Katya could probably have written a full paper on this exact splotch of paint back in College, or back at home in Boston, but now it seems like nothing more than a red shape on a white background. 

"You-" Trixie stares straight ahead, keeps her eyes on the black letters. "Why did you come to Chicago?" 

"I was- I still am- looking for a gallery to exhibit my- um- exhibition. Art." 

"Oh. Cool. What kind of exhibition is it?" Trixie asks, her voice polite and straight-forward. 

Katya's on the verge of hyperventilating. 

"It's... some train-stuff. Ish. And life, kinda. Some photos and, um... videos?" Katya would do a dramatic face palm at herself right now, had it not been for the fact that it would make the hurricane of emotions that's going on inside of her even more visible. 

Trixie makes a weird sound, still looking at the canvas. Katya studies her closely and notices that her mouth is curved into a grin. The sound was her laughing. 

"You are so stupid." 

Katya doesn't know if it's the right time, the right place, or the right anything, but she can't stop herself.  
She instinctively wraps her arms around Trixie's neck, stands on her tiptoes, and hugs her tight, burying her face in the crook of Trixie's warm neck. 

Time stops for a moment. 

She feels Trixie breath steadily, holding her close to herself, her hands resting at the small of Katya's back.  
When she eventually pulls back Katya looks into Trixie's familiar face and sighs. 

"Oh, my Trixie. I've made so many mistakes." 

 

*  
"-and, you know that I'm lactose intolerant, I've-" 

"Well, I don't see the lactose intolerance in you. Yes, you talk about it all the time- but why do you keep stealing my yoghurt then?" 

"Kim, get over it! It's not me! It's Trixie, I swear to God." 

The muffled sound of two people arguing can be heard in the entryway as Trixie and Katya return to the apartment. 

"Oh no," Trixie mutters as she begins tiptoeing inside, taking a turn left when they reach the living room. 

Katya follows close behind, eager to see the rest of the apartment, although she would never admit it. 

Beyond an open doorway is what must be the kitchen, with overly broad countertops and a kitchen island crowded with cereal boxes, used mugs, and a phone charger which seems to be broken beyond repair. 

Around a wooden table in the corner of the room sits the sources of the argument Trixie and Katya heard when they walked in- a woman in a pastel purple hoodie and one in a sharp, mellow orange suit. 

The dining table is weirdly tiny compared to the counters, with only three chairs and ridiculously little space, and Katya is getting the feeling that the whole apartment may have been constructed by a drunk architect handed some crayons and a ruler. 

"It's a girl!" The woman with the suit says loudly while gathering her glossy, dark hair at the nape of her neck. 

"Haha. Very funny. Good midwife joke. Always lands well." Trixie stops by the kitchen island, rests her back against it. 

The women's color schemes and postures complement each other beautifully where they're lounging at either side of the table. They're almost so pretty it's intimidating. 

"You go tell her, Trix, I'm fucking lactose intolerant, right?" The woman in orange throws at Trixie. 

Trixie shrugs, and replies, "nah, not last time I checked," while waving her hand airily. 

"Oh my god- that's just because you stole that yoghurt, and now-" 

"Hello!" The purple-dressed woman with the winged eyeliner cuts in, directed at Katya. She gives her a smile and a wave with her well-manicured hand. 

"Oh, yeah. This is Shea and Kim." Trixie gestures towards the two of them. 

Katya knows the chances that her hastily done makeup looks somewhat good in this mix of yellow and natural light are very bad. And that's before comparing it to these people, who look like they've never heard of a thing called slightly mediocre makeup skills. 

But then again if Katya doesn't have confidence, what does she have? 

Katya flashes her teeth in her most charming smile, says "hi, I'm Katya." 

The responses are not the ones Katya would have expected. Kim makes a weird face, raising her eyebrows at Trixie. Trixie again, widens her eyes in response and does some sign language Katya can't understand, shaking her head sideways, and suddenly Shea coughs loudly. 

"We got takeout!" She says, a little too loud, rising from her chair while she starts unpacking the white containers on the kitchen table. 

"It's Indian. You like Indian, Katya?" Her voice is still very unnatural, and still almost echoing against the walls. 

There are only three chairs around the table, so Shea practically runs into the living room to get another one for Katya. When she comes back Katya gingerly sits down by the table, followed by Trixie, who dumps down heavily on her own green plush chair. 

The thrill Katya feels whenever she meets someone new is almost winning over the very loud, very odd combination of feelings currently swirling inside her as she looks around the table.  
Almost. 

Kim clears her throat and grabs a fork. 

"So, what brings you to Chicago, Katya?" 

Katya folds and unfolds her hands nervously, trying not to get anxious about the whole situation. 

"She's looking for a gallery for her art exhibition," Trixie cuts in, grabbing one of the dishes and opening the lid with a pop. 

"Seriously?" Shea says, and Katya almost thinks she has to do the whole 'this is why I'm an artist'-speech, but Shea surprises her. 

"I own an art gallery! Holy shit, that's smooth." Shea grabs a naan bread and rips off a piece elegantly. 

"Smooth how? Does this have meat in it?" Trixie inspects the dish she's holding, trying to distinguish the different orange shapes from one another. 

Katya leans over to consider it too. "No, that's tofu." 

Trixie gives her a skeptical look and furrows her brow. 

"Should I take your word for that?" 

"Sit vis nobiscum," Katya responds, shrugging. 

"What does that mean?" Kim asks, taking a bite of her butter chicken. 

"Always trust the blonde smoker." 

"Does it?" Kim says, looking impressed as she scratches her nose, her mouth full of chicken. 

"No." Trixie says, smirking at Katya. 

Katya smiles back instantly, knowing her face must have lit up like a Christmas tree. For a second she was worried Trixie wouldn’t catch their old, nerdy inside joke. 

“Great,” Shea says looking back and forth between the two of them. “I was saying. ‘Smooth’-" 

"Smooth." Kim repeats, pointing her fork at Shea. 

"Why's it smooth?" Trixie chimes in, the faded grey light from the window falling on her as she chews on a mouthful of tofu. 

"Holy shit, Trixie. Aren't you a scientist? It's smooth because maybe she can put her art in the place where I show art." 

"Oh! That'd be great!" Katya says, at the same as time Trixie says, "I'm not a scientist." 

Their eyes meet for a moment, and then Katya laughs, knowing that she sounds like an old smoker. Trixie screams, which somehow means she laughs, before she slaps her hand on the table, says, "that would be great!" 

The rest of the meal Katya watches her whenever she can. Not in a creepy way. Just in a 'I've-missed-you-too-much-for-my-own-wellbeing'-way. 

**7 years ago**

_"Fuck!"_

_Katya swore as she drove the car right into the curb, a loud crack sounding through the window._

_"I can't drive for shit! Trix, why don't you ever talk me out of doing this?"_

_Katya tried to shut the car off, but then swore loudly again as the wipers started wiping like crazy at the bone-dry car window, making an annoying screeching sound._

_Trixie didn't answer. She just fiddled with her seatbelt, looking intensely up the driveway they were parked next to. Teenagers in clothing of widely varying appropriateness were closing in on the house, already laughing hysterically and clustering together. Seemed about right for a high school party._

_"Katya." Trixie kept avoiding Katya's eyes- fidgeting with her hair, her skirt, her hair again._

_"Mm." Katya finally managed to stop the car, then turned around in her seat to face her best friend._

_"It's just... I like- nope." Trixie took a deep breath and sighed, rubbing her eyes absentmindedly._

_"I want to sleep with-" Trixie tried again, but stopped herself, seeming surprised at her own words, "nope."_

_She pushed her hands through her hair, finally said, "I... oh shit, I'm gay, okay?"_

_Katya raised her eyebrows at her._

_"What else is new? So am I." Trixie blinked back at her, looking a little confused._

_"Well, kinda-ish, but does it matter?"_

_Trixie bit her lip- her teeth digging into her pink lipstick._

_"Yeah, to me it does."_

_Katya shrugged and grabbed Trixie's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Okay, you're a gay, Trix."_

_Trixie laughed and squeezed her hand back._

_"I'm not one to judge, I'm meeting my girlfriend right now." Katya unbuckled her seatbelt and started getting out of the car._

_"What?" Trixie stopped mid-motion with one foot through her car door._

_"Yeah, Violet. It's not like I haven't told you." Katya shut the door and started walking up the driveway, the music from the party ringing all the way down to her ears._

_"It's definitely like you haven't told me." Trixie hurried to catch up with Katya, wobbling a little on her high heels._

_"I'm pretty sure I told you," Katya went on, "anyway, she's gonna be here."_

_*  
That night Katya spent making out with her girlfriend in an armchair in the house of some person she barely knew. _

_The few times she saw her best friend she was more than a little tipsy, acting nothing like herself, laughing around with other tipsy people. When she eventually noticed Katya and Violet she just gave them a sloppy wave, too busy to even walk over._

 

*** 

The couch cushions are warm and furry, and they almost swallow Katya whole when she leans back into them. Evening air is seeping through the one of the windows, the sun almost setting in the now-orange sky. Katya shivers a little as the breeze seeps through her jeans, making the hairs on her bare arms raise. 

Trixie is sitting in an armchair opposite of her, her legs crossed and looking in deep thought. 

Kim and Shea fled the apartment a couple of minutes ago, supposedly because they had to run some very important errands. Before they left Shea had asked where Katya was staying in Chicago, which led to an awkward, way too detailed, description of the awful air-bnb she was currently living at, and Shea concluding that Katya should stay with them in their apartment. It was very practical, according to Shea, since they would be working together with the art installation. 

Right now Katya's trying to ignore the incomprehensible look Trixie gave Shea when she said that. 

Every cell in Katya's body is screaming for her to have interpreted it wrong. She can't handle it if Trixie doesn't want her here. Or worse. If Trixie's as mad at Katya as Katya is at herself.  
Katya can't deal with that thought at the moment, so she breaks the silence between them. 

"How's music going?" Her voice sounds feeble to her own ears. 

Trixie blinks a couple of times and catches Katya's eyes. "Music?" 

"Yeah, your guitar and all..." Katya doesn't know if she's going out on a limb here, but mistaking one of Trixie's favorite hobbies seems farfetched, even in her situation. 

"My-" She takes a deep breath, "my guitar? I- it's in the basement." 

"The basement? Why?" 

"I... I don't know, it's just..." 

"Trixie Mattel without a guitar by her side. Am I actually going crazy?" Katya gives Trixie a look she would describe as thunderstruck. 

"Well. Okay, shut up, I'm getting it now." 

When she comes back she's got a black guitar case in her hands and a little smile playing on her face. 

Katya recognizes the guitar, of course she does- it's the one Trixie always used to play. It once was boring and wooden, but Katya and Trixie had painted it a light green color, on top of which Katya had made tiny flowers and birds in pink paint. The paint's chipping at places now, the colors worn out. It gives the instrument a pretty, vintage feel to it.  
Trixie places it in her lap and starts turning on the tuners and plucking on the strings. The sound is sharp against the empty space around them. 

"How was France?" Trixie asks, keeping her eyes on her hands as they move across the strings. 

Katya leans forward and props up her elbow on her knee, resting her head on her hand. 

"It was... something. It was a lot beautiful and- and a little lonely, I guess." 

Trixie nods, a lock of cotton candy hair coming loose from her up-do, tumbling over her flushed cheek. The way she looks right now, she could be sixteen again. She could be the girl with the crazy laugh and the wildcard-best friend. It could be before Katya broke her own heart. When the rest of the world was calm waters and Trixie's voice mingling the rustling trees. When they had little money, anxiety and few allies, but at least they had each other. 

With her left hand splayed over the fretboard she starts strumming the instrument, playing the tune to a song Katya hasn't heard in a long, long while. 

When she sings Trixie's voice shatters the Katya's heart and mends it again, over and over again. 

"Well the day is never done, but there's a light on where you're sleeping- so I hope somewhere that troubles will be gone," she sings, the words and tones coming back to Katya little by little. 

And of course Katya knows. Of course she knows that Trixie's not sixteen anymore. 

That she doesn't even know the person she is now. 

But then again, that doesn't mean she can't hope. Why else would she do anything, if not for hope? 

When the song is over Trixie blinks hard and looks up at Katya, clutching the guitar in her gentle hands. There's a peculiar look in her big eyes. 

"Is everything okay?" Katya says, wondering if this is the part where she tells her that she should leave, that Chicago is no place for a person like Katya. 

She doesn't. 

She just smiles a sad smile, her face glowing with remorse, but also with fondness. "Yes. It is. I just- I can't believe it took the return of a weird, passionate, smoker-artist for me to pick up my guitar again." 

Katya draws a sharp breath, her mind hitching to the word 'return'. That lovely, two-syllable word. Her heart is twitching inside her chest. 

"I'm sorry, Trixie." 

Trixie gazes intensely at her, a crease between her dark eyebrows. "For what?" 

Katya squeezes the right temple on her glasses, the metal cold against her overheated hands. She almost laughs. There's about a thousand things Katya should be sorry for. "Everything. Most importantly, I wasn't there for you." 

Trixie smiles that soft smile again, her same old smile- just with a few more creases and, Katya realizes, the air of a person who has felt real pain. 

"Oh well," she says, "I wasn't there for me either." 

 

*  
When Trixie goes to bed Shea and Kim have come home and the semi-darkness has fallen over the city, leaving the living room only lit up by two orange lamps.  
Katya slides open the door to the balcony to have a cigarette after saying good night to her welcoming hosts. The stone on the balcony is chilled as she steps on to it. A strong wind blows over the railing, and she has to cover the lighter with her callused hands to make the smoke light up. The glowing tip burns orange in the deep blue night around her. 

The sound of a train rattling by cuts through the silence as Katya inhales, the smoke filling her lungs. 

Metal against metal screeches as she exhales, a grey cloud emerging from her lips. 

Then the train hurries off again, drumming rhythmically against the tracks as it makes its way home. 

When Katya lies on the mattress Trixie laid out for her in the living room she doesn't feel sleepy at all. She stares up at the ceiling, feeling the wires in the bed bend beneath her.  
The walls are so sound that she can hear Trixie toss and turn in the room next door for hours until she finally falls asleep. 

*** 

**7 years ago**

_That fall Katya's relationship with Violet ended, like a lot of relationships do._

_The look on Trixie's face was hard to interpret when Katya told her the news. It was some kind of surprise, but also something else entirely._

_Katya didn't linger on that fact, though. She just went on with her business like she always did back then._

_But at some point, when the colored leaves had long fallen from the trees, something changed._

_Between her and Trixie._

_It was hard to explain, because it caught her completely off guard._

_One moment Trixie was her best friend, and they were just sharing everything like best friends do. The next Katya suddenly felt like someone slapped her whenever she looked at Trixie. A flicker of energy pulsing through her body when she watched her laugh. And she had no idea at all why Trixie's touch was now giving her goose bumps on her arms._

_*  
"Est sea coo tu eime deener?" Trixie said confidently, tucking her fluffy scarf tighter around her neck. _

_The garden was cold and grey, the big tree by the fence gnarly and naked without its crown of leaves._

_Katya laughed and held out her hand, trying to catch one of the heavy snowflakes that had started falling from the steel grey sky. "Do I like eating dinner?"_

_"Ah, putain, I only know how to swear in French. I'm going to fail this semester." Trixie tapped at the frozen grass with her shoe, white flakes of snow landing lightly on her curly hair._

_"Don't worry, swearing is the most useful aspect of most languages." Katya sat down next to her friend, noticing instantly that the ground was way too cold to sit on. She didn't do anything with that information._

_Trixie looked at her, pouting a little, a weird, special spark in her eye. "Yeah, and then at least I have some words for when I do fail."_

_Katya smiled at her, her eyes wandering down to her lips, taking in their pink curves and the tiny cracks in the soft skin._

_Trixie skootched closer to her, the surface beneath her crackling as the icy crystals broke under her weight. Then she leaned against Katya, her head on her shoulder, the warmth from Trixie's body seeping over to hers._

_The warmth didn't just touch Katya's body. It somehow spread though her mind- the unsettling whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that was her- giving her a feeling of peace. There was no other way to describe it, really. Except that. A feeling of peace._

_And in that moment Katya knew._

_She was falling in love with Trixie Mattel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've made a [moodboard](https://pin.it/o6qjfiep2aoeuh) and a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/yj4zipyrxt1o8l4312ytpunfc/playlist/2KdYaKDY8EQMciIXdioiBz?si=bH1ZXXvoToeDZ6bHnkcscg) for this story, if you want to check those out :)


	3. Hot Mess on Wheels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii! happy sunday! or happy whatever-day-it-is-where-you-are! here's a new chapter, and thank you so much for everyone who talks to me/comments it makes me so extremely happy!!!

Trixie has never been an early bird. 

She's never woken up before her alarm, ready with a pie chart and a hundred documents printed out before six AM. 

Trixie has also never been the person to do a handstand with her legs in a split on a balcony either, to be completely honest. 

Which is why Katya's current state feels vaguely foreign to her this particular morning. 

Stepping out of her room all bleary-eyed and messy-looking she almost thinks Katya's gone. There is no sign of her around her make-shift bed, or in the kitchen with Kim, so, to her own misery, worry starts tainting her blurry mind. The worry quickly evaporates, though, when she sees Katya's black 'disco made me do it'- backpack- the only thing she brought to Chicago, except for her exhibition, of course- lying randomly by the bathroom door. 

The sky is dotted with white clouds and a dazzling, white sun when Trixie spots the artist herself looking like an acrobat through the glass-paneled sliding doors in the living room. 

"Right. You don't care for sleep," Trixie says as she gets out on the balcony, a burning hot mug of coffee in her hands. Adds that to the list of things she's just remembering about her best friend.   
Katya looks up behind her upturned bangs and smiles, her lips pink and puffy without her typical lipstick. 

"Sleep is for the partly alive." 

Trixie leans against the iron railing, her lips involuntarily turning up at the edges. 

"Which makes you completely alive or completely dead?" 

Katya just winks at her, blood rushing to her face. 

Trixie diverts her eyes from the light green shirt riding up over her stomach, ignores the toned muscles to her best ability. She turns her head towards the street, squints against the early morning sun, takes a sip of her coffee. The bitterness almost stings her tongue. 

A second later Katya fills her vision again as she jumps up to stand facing her, almost blocking her sight of the houses below them. Or- she would've, had she been taller.   
Grabbing the mug from Trixie she takes a big sip of the dark liquid, making a face at how strong it is. 

"Jesus on a tricycle, that's horrible!" She bursts out, gently thrusting the mug back into Trixie's hands. 

Trixie laughs, absentmindedly fiddling with handle. In the light of a new morning, Trixie appreciates Katya in a way she didn't manage to yesterday. Her bright smile cuts through the fogginess in Trixie's head, and Trixie is reminded how wonderfully uplifting Katya's presence is. Even if it's just in the polite 'it would be weird not to pop by'-way that Trixie strongly believes is the cause of her visit. It's not like Trixie's going to deny herself the joy of watching Katya's energetic movements or listening to her crazy laugh, anyway. Even if it's just for a few days. 

"Trixie, I'm leaving, and I recommend you get out of your pajamas!" Kim shouts loudly from the hallway, making Trixie jump. She shifts her eyes self-consciously to the ground, tears them away from Katya's familiar face. 

"Um, I should get going actually, so..." she lets the sentence hang in the air. Katya nods solemnly, dumping down on her yoga spot again. 

"Good luck with the babies!" She calls after Trixie as she makes it for her bedroom. Trixie smiles all her way to work. 

 

*   
The machine in front of Trixie beeps like it's possessed. 

Groaning, Trixie glares at the little screen in the middle of it, at the little black letters telling her to go fuck herself. Well, basically. 

"Oh my god, honey, what are you doing?" A voice behind her says, sounding legitimately concerned. 

Trixie spins around and tries to cover up the striking printer with her body as much as she can. The voice belonged to no other than her good friend Shangela, standing in front of her with a stack of binders and a cup of tea in her hands. 

Trixie groans again, pointing at the evil machine in an accusing manner. 

"Okay, let me," Shangela says, pushing past Trixie and stacking her stuff onto a table beside them. 

Shangie takes her time to do some magic, while Trixie's head for some reason suddenly fills with the image of Katya doing a handstand on top of the printer. Or even better- sitting on the godforsaken printer, her legs wrapped around Trixie, holding her close to her heart like in the museum yesterday. She then pulls back, looking at Trixie with a smile on her face, then leaning forward- 

The machine suddenly starts beeping and spewing out papers, forcing Trixie out of her vivid daydream with a surprised noise. Shangela gives her a weird look. 

"What is up with you today? Brianna said you spilled antibacterial on the blankets in Ladybug?" Shangela puts her hand on Trixie's shoulder in a motherly way while at the same time picking up   
Trixie's newly printed papers. 

Trixie gives her an apologetic smile, taking her documents from Shangie. "I- nothing. Too long long weekend." 

Shangela raises her dark eyebrows a little, but then she shrugs, her brown afro bouncing on her shoulders. 

"At least you got your nutrition right. For that redhead mother?" She leans over to glance at the charts in Trixie's hands. 

"Mm. Ginger." Trixie grabs the last of her papers the devil machine has managed to spew out. 

"Well, she's got red hair, alright." 

Trixie snorts and picks out some pens from the desk by the door. 

"Her _name_ is Ginger, Shangie." 

Shangela cocks her head, confusion all over her kind face. 

"Don't you have a delivery now? That sweet single mother?" 

Picking up her tea again, Shangela takes a big sip before answering. 

"False alarm. She'll come in tomorrow or Thursday, if my guess is right. She's delightful- looking forward to it." She says, raising her glass in a salute. 

"I need to get going, having a council kind of day," Trixie opens the door, eager to get started with the first of her five meetings of the day. 

"Don't keep your mind on that girl stuck in your head, honey!" Shangela's voice rings out as the door is closing. By the time Trixie catches her words the door shuts, leaving any opportunity for Trixie to deny her far behind. 

 

*   
**Unknown number**

MEET ME AT TE GOODWILL BY WHASHINGTON AT 5:30 PLZ0? 

**Unknown number**

Oo sorry caps lock 

**Trixie**

Who is this? 

**Unknown number**

Sorrry!!! it's katya the katya! shae gave me yr Nw numbr 

**Unknown number**

Plz meet me I brought zro clothes?? 

 

*   
When Trixie arrives at the goodwill by Washington boulevard Katya is standing under one of the bright blue parasols, bouncing up and down in her worn sneakers. She doesn't notice Trixie until she's standing right in front of her, but when she does she makes an exited shriek, wriggling her arms energetically. 

"You came!" 

Trixie pushes Katya a little to make her enter the store, feeling for just a second her warm shoulder under Trixie's touch, making it harder than it should be to let go. 

"Yes, I did. I'm the tooth fairy," Trixie replies, not really knowing why she says just that. 

Katya doesn't seem to mind. 

Turning around to face Trixie she walks backwards into the store, almost tripping on the doorstep. 

"You look like the tooth fairy!" She says, a considering look on her defined face. "I mean if the tooth fairy wore pink spaghetti strap-tops and was like... hot." 

She coughs and turns back around again after saying that, which may be good, considering the blush that's beginning to creep up Trixie's neck. 

The shop is a typical thrift store- a lot of bad lighting and rows and rows of different knick-knacks and color-coded clothes. It smells the same, too. Worn fabric and some other semi-shady tinge. 

"What color do you see me as?" Katya says as they near the clothing racks. 

Trixie pauses and studies Katya closely. Considers the science of her color-combination. She tries to, at least, but it's hard not to get sucked into the blue-green color of her eyes. Trixie feels like they could swallow her whole, like the ocean. Which might not be a bad comparison after all, considering how Katya's mind is always in motion- shifting and building up to storms some days, falling silent and peaceful others. 

"Trixie?" 

Trixie shakes her head and blinks, feeling the blush making a strong comeback. 

"You- uh, you're definitely brown. I mean not _brown_ brown, more like... blue?" 

Katya eyes linger on Trixie's skeptically for a moment, but then she laughs a wheezy laugh and does an impromptu pirouette like it's second nature. She skips over to the blue section, Trixie tagging along close behind. 

Katya's passionate love for shirts with prints on them must have developed in the last years. Trixie can't recall her ever fretting over them this much, if that's anything to go by.   
Katya's love for things that make no sense at all, though, is nothing new. 

As Katya holds up one shirt after another, the texts getting weirder and weirder, Trixie starts getting a little dizzy. Some Katya keep in her hand as they go, except the ones she discards as not worthy. 

"Aren't these completely your style, Trixie?" Katya asks, holding up some vintage pants. 

Trixie wrinkles her nose, appreciating the floral embroidery on the pockets, but also noticing how they no way on earth would get anywhere above her chins. 

"Sorry to disappoint you, but that is _not_ my size," Trixie replies, hanging the pants back on the cramped rack. 

"Why are all the clothes in the world made to fit one single person?" Katya says into the void, picking up another weird shirt, this one with the inscription 'cats too can play the cello' in bold, red letters over a drawing of a cat with what's, indeed, a cello. 

She gives a long squeal and looks at Trixie, pure joy in her eyes. She nearly looks at the verge of tears. 

"How is this not the most beautiful thing in the world?" She says, throwing the shirt over her arm. 

The store is pretty unpopulated, due to the fact that it's a Tuesday afternoon, so there's only one person in line when they get to the checkout. The cashier is objectively very handsome, Trixie thinks. He looks a little like Chris Evans. Looking over at Katya, her friend looks about ready to eat the guy's face. Trixie fights the urge to go and punch him in the balls. And then she has to fight the urge to have that urge, when keeping Katya at a distance is the clearest goal she currently has. She's a hot mess. 

"Oh, my goodness, you've got fishnets?" Katya says to Chris Evans as the person in front of them is finished. 

The guy picks up the fishnets and hands them over to Katya. 

"Trixie!" Katya abruptly tenses where she's standing, a sparkle in her eye. 

"Wha.. What?" Trixie replies, furrowing her brow, inspecting the fishnets suspiciously. 

"Can't you hear? Yo, Chris Pratt, turn up the music, will ya?" 

As the cashier turns up the volume a familiar keyboard-loaded tune reaches Trixie's ears. The cover of a 70s song Katya's father used to play on repeat the summer Trixie turned seventeen. 

Katya throws all her shirts on the counter, takes Trixie by the hand and leads her out on the shiny floor like it's a dance floor from the disco fever days. 

Then she starts singing. 

And the funny thing when Katya sings is that she can't sing for all the money in the world, but still it makes Trixie want to hold her and protect her against all the harm in the world. To protect all the joy and emotion in her voice. 

"We get it on most every night, when that moon is big and bright," Katya sings loudly, grooving with her whole body. 

"It's a supernatural delight, everybody's dancing in the moonlight," Trixie replies, the feel-good tune seeping into her bones. She holds on to Katya's hands, and they move together like they're a part of the music. 

They twirl and spin on the shiny floor, dancing close together. Because they can. 

 

*   
Katya's presence in Trixie's life once again is changing her more than she could have ever imagined. 

Sometimes you don't know you're missing something until it comes back banging on your front door. 

Trixie's life is steady, full of consistent friendships, a consistent job, a consistent dream to do good. Trixie is soft sheets, old comic books and newborn babies to parents with tears in their eyes. And all that is Trixie and will still be her, no matter who comes and goes. 

So how can one person with a ragged laugh and an intense gaze walk in and make her feel like everything is turning upside-down? 

Katya is rash decisions, distressed clothes and filling blank pages with things people never even know they needed. 

She is a heatwave that has come to catch Trixie with her never-ending passion and her open heart. 

So how is Trixie supposed to keep her distance? Is the world laughing at her for how foolish she is? Maybe it's laughing because Trixie dares to think that this heatwave would ever stay with her. 

 

*   
A discussion is echoing through the apartment when Trixie comes home that Friday, Kim's voice being magnified against the kitchen walls. 

"-is problematic, especially for young people. I didn't know what asexuality was until I was grown up! I never just settled on the fact that I was different. How could I?" 

"Of course, we can't just settle on not knowing ourselves!" Katya responds enthusiastically. "And there is so much romanticizing and sexualizing in our society. People don't get a choice whether they want to be a part of it or not." 

"This is coming from a very sexual person, by the way," Trixie says as she enters the open kitchen space, her limbs a little heavy after a long day of births and writing of documents. 

"No doubt 'bout that, but if you can't put yourself in anybody else's position then what are you even doing?" Katya replies, her back to Trixie where she's standing by the counter, chopping some tomatoes. 

She taps the blade of the knife on the chopping board, turning around to scoop the tomatoes into a bowl. When she notices Trixie a broad smile appears on her face. 

"Hi Trixie!" She says, placing the bowl on the kitchen island, "we're making burgers. Fancy burgers." 

"They're vegan!" Kim chimes in from where she's frying something in a pan by the stove. 

Katya nods seriously and points her finger at Trixie, says, "veganity is the shit." 

Trixie lets out a shriek, slapping her hand across the kitchen island. Putting her hair into a ponytail she moves to the cupboard to get some plates. 

"Shea eating?" She asks Kim where she stands in her egg-printed dress. 

Katya joins them by the stove, says, "nope. She's got meetings I think. For the exhibition." 

She picks up a pot from the counter, jiggles it so the withering, old plants inside of it sway back and forth hopelessly. Raising an eyebrow at Trixie she laughs. 

"Kim told me you've tried to become a plant mother?" 

Trixie takes the pot, placing it firmly back on the counter. "I'm a wonderful plant mother." 

Katya keeps on laughing, the wheeze growing stronger, "you can deliver babies. But plants? Too much?" 

Trixie grunts, punches Katya in the arm with a little more force than intended, and gets the plates, carrying them over to the table. 

"Yes. Too much," she says, unable to stop herself from smiling just a little. 

"Wanna eat outside maybe? It's not so windy today," Kim comments, and Trixie changes her destination to the balcony. 

*   
The vegan burger ends up tasting very good, which can probably be solely traced back to Kim's amazing cooking skills. Katya is entitled to the honor of having nicely cut some vegetables, though. 

The wind is also almost nonexistent, the weather warm and soothing. 

"So, how are you planning on getting to Bob's?" Kim asks, after they've all had time to silence their growling stomachs. 

Trixie raises her eyebrows at her friend, putting her burger down on her plate. "Bob's? Who said anything about Bob's?" 

Trixie looks back and forth between the two of them, Katya sipping patiently at her coke, Kim looking like the most laidback person in the world. 

"That might have been me," Katya eventually admits after putting her coke down, "we're going to a party. At your friend's house. Okay?" She grins at her, looking for approval. 

Trixie sighs. "They live in the freakin' suburbs! And I'm tired." 

Katya gives her a pleading look, leaning a little closer across the table. "I know you. You always say you don't wanna go out, but when you do you love it!" 

Trixie catches Kim's eyes, tries to get her on her own team, but she just nods, says "you need it." 

"A-a-and, I know you've got a nightshift tomorrow. Which means waking up late," Katya eggs her on, and Trixie knows she's defeated. 

She picks up her burger again, rolls her eyes. "Okay, but we're taking the train. I'm not getting on a fucking bus tonight." 

*** 

**6 years ago**

_"Trix, get your ass over here!"_

_Katya's voice sparked loudly through Trixie's old Nokia, the emotion hard to recognize over the line._

_"Why did you call, you idiot? Just open the window for fuck's sake," Trixie shouted back, walking away from her homework to look though the kitchen window. Across the fence she could spot_

_Katya's mother in the living room, glasses on, watching something on the tv._

_"I walked Dina to the bus stop, thank you very much. Anyway- meet me by the forest in, like, three seconds!"_

_Katya hung up, and Trixie dropped her phone on the kitchen table before leaving through the backdoor._

_*  
"What is it, you edgy, young lady?" Trixie said, placing her hands on Katya's hips from behind, knowing she was going to jump. _

_She did._

_Spinning around, she looked Trixie up and down, biting her red-painted lip._

_"Katya? What's up?"_

_Katya shook her head, her mouth dropping open the tiniest bit._

_"Um... yeah, well- yeah!" She said, holding up her hand, in which she was clutching a white envelope. "It's from college."_

_Trixie sucked in her breath, freezing for a second, before she snatched the piece of paper out of her best friend's hand._

_"What does it say?" Trixie dug out the document, skimming through the tiny, black letters._

_Katya stayed silent, but as Trixie read she took her hand, starting to walk in between the tall trees._

_'We are happy to inform you that you've been accepted at our-' Trixie read, and she shrieked loudly, hit Katya in the arm._

_"Bitch! Bitch! You got in! Oh my god!" She smacked Katya with the paper excitedly, her shriek getting louder._

_Throwing her arms around her best friend she hugged her so tight they both almost toppled over._

_Drawing back Trixie looked down into Katya's face, her own face probably shining like she was the one who'd just gotten in at a prestige art college in Boston._

_Katya wasn't mirroring her emotions._

_"What? Why are you..." Trixie said, moving after Katya where she absentmindedly strolled deeper in between the trees._

_The soft forest floor made no sound under Katya's light feet where she walked, her shoulders drooping the tiniest bit._

_"It's- I mean... I don't know. Haven't you thought about it too?" She swallowed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "That we won't be together next year?"_

_Trixie stepped closer to Katya, tugging at her fraying sweater._

_"Yeah. Yeah, I have. But don't worry about me! I've got Bob, and I've got a couple of good friends in the school band, and- yeah you know all that."_

_Katya still looked like this might be the end of the world, so Trixie kept going._

_"And we'll talk on the phone every day, and you'll come back in the vacations."_

_That made her light up a little. She smiled a reluctant smile, the April sun lighting up her face._

_"Cheer up, Katya. In some years you'll be an artist," she gave her a wink, "and you'll be the best one there ever was."_

_And she has never changed her mind about that._

 

*   
Trains are by far Trixie's favorite type of transportation. 

The steady beat of the tracks as the vehicle moves steadily forward is a sensation Trixie has come to love. 

She never took any trains back when she was a kid. There wasn't ever the need to- if they were going anywhere at all they'd just take the car. 

But trains are a lot more magical than cars, Trixie's found out since she came to Chicago. 

As Trixie and Katya get on the red line the compartments fill up fast with people in pencil skirts and suits, on their way home from their jobs and daytime hustles and bustles of the city life. Trixie ends up cramped between a large stroller and a man breathing very heavily, and she holds on to the handrail for her dear life as the train picks up its pace.   
Katya looks like she was born to serve one purpose only- to ride trains- where she's standing elegantly in between two women arguing loudly, her eyes closed like she's taking in the life and the movement around her. 

Trixie smiles. 

By the time they have to change lines almost everyone has left, the last ones to jump off being a boy carrying a cat in his hands and themselves.   
Katya looks like a caricature of a new-thinking artist where she walks on the platform; fishnets under a pair of distressed shorts with cigarettes in the back pocket, a camera that looks like it's seen better days hanging over her shoulder. 

"What's Bob doing these days?" Katya says, sitting down on an empty bench and leaning back, her feet lifting off the surface below. 

Trixie taps Katya's feet with her shoe, almost losing balance with all her weight on one sling back heel. "They've just gotten an internship, at a... law firm I think?" She flips her hair from one side   
to the other, walking over to the timetables. 

"I mean, I talked to them last week or something, but I've got a short-term memory." 

Katya laughs and gets back up from the bench restlessly, joining Trixie by the timetables. 

"Which one?" Katya asks, peering up at the information above them, squinting her eyes. 

"Purple. Three minutes," Trixie replies. 

With quick movements Katya snaps a photo of the timetable, before swiping the lens of the camera across the station.   
Trixie wonders with which eyes Katya can be seeing a train station as a wonderful work of art, but then again, if anyone can make it one, it's Katya. 

"Are you sure you'll be let in at the party?" Katya asks as the train clickety-clacks into the station a couple of minutes later. 

Trixie frowns, says, "I'm... um, yeah?" 

"I think there's a non-cuteness policy, Kim told me, you see... And then you'll be in big trouble," Katya grins, stepping into the doors just sliding open. 

Trixie laughs, following close behind. "Ah. Kim with the good intel. I see." 

 

*   
Pink light seeps through the windows as the scenery rushes by, the only sound audible the steady rhythm of the tracks they move upon. The sun is on its decline, but it's not close to kissing the horizon yet. The sky outside looks like a Monet painting, all pastels and wispy clouds. 

Trixie takes in the beautiful scene, leaning her head on the cool window. 

The 'click' from Katya's camera brings her out of her deep day dream, and she looks up at her friend. 

She's lowered her camera, but her eyes are still on Trixie where she sits leaned back in the deep blue seat. Her lips are resting in the weirdest little smile, making soft creases in her otherwise sharp face. The light falls over her face, shadows thrown by the locks of hair falling messily around her cheeks. 

Trixie bites her lip, her heart rate picking up for reasons she can't really comprehend. 

The silence between them is like the silence when you wake up beside someone you love, not a sound around you but their steady breath. And the silence is both light and heavy, loaded with words never needed to be said. Trixie wants to hold on to that silence for everything in her life, but it doesn't feel like she deserves it. 

Katya is not hers. 

Clearing her throat, she shifts in her seat, diverting her eyes away from Katya's. 

"How's Violet?" Her voice is uneven and sounds foreign to her own ears, saying words she hasn't really agreed with. Without thinking them through. 'How's Violet'? What kind of stupid-ass question is that? 

Katya furrows her brows, sliding her hand across the smooth bottom ledge of the window. Her nails are painted with a dark red color, matching her lips, but it's chipping in so many places it looks like an abstract art installation. 

"Violet? I haven't seen her in- what? Six years? Last time I heard she was fine, I think." 

Trixie blinks hard, cursing herself for her own stupidity. Of course, Katya doesn't know anything about Violet. Why the hell did Trixie ask? 

She takes a breath, her eyes making out the outlines of a residential area with white fences and green lawns past the window. 

"Yeah, of course. Um- how 'bout your- I don't know- girlfriend, boyfriend, partner?" Trixie rambles on, unable to stop the word vomit coming out of her mouth.   
Katya looks slightly amused. 

"My non-existent girlfriend-boyfriend-partner is doing very well, thank you very much," she says, her voice mocking, a big grin on her lips. 

Trixie didn't know what she'd been expecting, but what she gets is an immense sense of relief. It runs so deep she has to remind herself a couple of times that Katya is an artist on the run, that her smoking, loud and bright presence is going to leave her by next week. 

That doesn't help against the urge to grab Katya's hand where it's lying against the window. She reaches her own out, twines her fingers through her friend's like it's second nature. And it is. Of course it is. 

Her hand is warm and dry, and Trixie can feel her pulse beating hard, mixing with her own. 

In her eyes is a softness that cuts to Trixie's core. 

Oh well. 

Maybe she'll allow herself a moment of silence, even if she doesn't deserve it. 

 

*   
Bob's house stands out pretty obviously where it's surrounded by large row-houses and family homes. The tiny, yellow house sits almost completely quietly on its green lawn when Katya and Trixie close up on it. Parties as a 'grown-up' aren't nearly as loud as college parties and those kinds of gatherings, but the faint beat of a deep bass can be heard from the graveled driveway. 

Holding open the door for Katya, they enter the house together, the atmosphere of a party enveloping them as the front door slides shut. 

In the front hall stands some people Trixie has never seen before, raising their beer bottles in a greeting to Trixie and Katya. 

Moving past the staircase leading upstairs they reach the living room, which is packed with a crowd of fairly intellectual-looking people. Trixie and Katya contrast them quite well- Trixie in her pastel pinks and blues, Katya in being an artist with no limits as to what she can wear, no matter her age. 

"Tracy Martel!" Someone shouts, and Trixie spins around, searching for the source of the sound. 

By the open kitchen area stands Bob, opening a bottle of wine, surrounded by people chatting loudly. 

Trixie beams, bringing Katya over to them with her. 

"Rob!" She says, grabbing the now-open wine bottle from her friend. 

Bob's eyes land on Katya, a look of uncertainty on their face. 

"Hi!" Katya says, standing on her tiptoes to give Bob a hug. 

They lean into the hug before drawing back, inspecting Katya like an aunt who hasn't seen their niece for a couple of months. 

"Katya! What-" Eyeing Trixie they look more than a little confused. 

Trixie mouths, 'tell you later', while picking up a glass for her stolen wine. 

"Holy fuck, is that Jinkx? The 'falling asleep on the bus in sixth grade ending up in Minnesota'-Jinkx?" Katya asks excitedly, and before any of them manage to reply she's off, pursuing a person on   
the other side of the room. 

Bob raises an eyebrow, a skeptic smile on their face. "Oh well," they say, bringing the wine bottle, "come here." 

 

*   
"So she showed up on your front porch, and now she's holding an art installation here- in Chicago?" Bob sounds amused where they're sipping on the shiny liquid in their glass. 

Trixie digs her heels into the soft grass in Bob's back yard, nodding her head, raising her own glass in a salute. 

"Yes ma'am. Taking the train with me and who knows what else. It's all happened so fast." 

Bob mulls it over in their head, a crease appearing between their eyebrows. 

"And how do you feel about everything?" They ask, placing their hand comforting on Trixie's shoulder. 

After some glasses of wine Trixie has lost the will to contemplate on that fact, so she just shrugs, downing the remnants of her rosé in one drink. 

"I feel like dancing," Trixie smirks, putting down her glass, the warmth from the alcohol spreading through her body. 

Bob snorts as Trixie gets up. She's a little unsteady, so she takes off her shoes for good measure. 

In the middle of the small lawn a group of people are already moving up and down to the beat, dancing along to some upbeat pop song.   
Trixie joins them, cheering loudly- which makes everyone else cheer too. 

Trixie may not be the best dancer in the world. Or in Chicago. Or at this party. She's nowhere close, really.   
But that doesn't kill her immense party-dancing instinct. The instinct which has gotten her quite a few praises in her time. 

Moving her arms at random she bounces up and down, feeling the beat of the song she couldn't have recognized even if she were sober rattling through her bones. 

Odd. The music didn't seem so loud when they'd arrived. 

Now it swirls around the dancing people, making everyone look like colorful bundles of energy. 

They're very pretty, all of them, Trixie thinks to herself. What a nice word. Pretty. When she thinks about it like 'pritty' it sounds funny.   
No one's as pritty as Katya, though, she thinks to herself. Maybe Katya's watching her dance. Trixie dances even better after thinking about that. 

She flings her arms around a girl with bright purple hair, who smells like sweet drinks and leaves. She jives with a guy with dreads, jumps up and down by her own. 

She _is_ the dancing queen. 

*   
It's a good party, Trixie concludes after her something-eth drink. 

She has a very serious conversation with a woman about her dog. Trixie rates the dog ten out of ten. It was a very beautiful dog. She gives away five bucks to another girl who says she needed to pee. After a discussion with Bob about how people should be payed to pee, of course. 

She and Katya play a round of Uno at some point, but they had to end the game because Katya couldn't stop laughing when Trixie kept laying the green cards on top of the yellow ones.   
But the rules are definitely on Trixie's side. Yellow and green are the same color. 

In a better world. 

"You divide by color? You hypocrite!" Trixie exclaims, pointing her stack of cards at Katya. 

Katya keeps laughing. 

"What's so funny? This is a serious issue!" Trixie wails. 

Katya wipes away a tear of laughter from her eye, and picks up Trixie's cards, putting them back into the box again. 

*   
Trixie may or may not be staggering around in the back yard when Bob finds her a couple of hours later. There's a mild breeze in the yard now, sweeping around her and making her body feel a little less hot. Bob's holding a glass of water in their hands, which Trixie looks at skeptically. 

Then she giggles. 

"Water is for mermaids. Am I a mermaid?" 

Bob puts their palm to their forehead, before nodding like they’ve just given up. 

"Cool!" Trixie says and skips around, holding her hands up in a mermaid pose. 

She must be looking very nice. 

That moment Katya comes through the doors to the yard, a cigarette and a lighter in her hands.   
She looks like a goddess. Trixie wishes she could go over and kiss her. Then kiss her some more. Kiss her endlessly. Hold her. Dance with her. Bring her with her to the underwater mermaid-castle she's gonna buy and live with her there forever. 

As Katya comes closer Trixie giggles some more and leans over to Bob, and close to their ear she whispers, "I still love Katya." 

Except maybe she wasn't whispering. Maybe she was quite loud, actually. 

Bob gives her an incredulous look, looking serious and worried. Which is stupid. Why be so serious and worried about such a beautiful thing like love? 

But suddenly Katya is nowhere to be seen. 

Her mermaid goddess is gone.


	4. How To Break Your Own Goddamned Heart

**5 years ago**

_Taking the plane home from Boston in late June Katya's heart was beating like crazy, her palms all sweaty where they were gripping the armrest, her knuckles white._

_It had been a great year, the joy of bringing all her visions to life unlike anyone Katya had experienced thus far.  
Her new friends were cool and edgy and nice, accepting of everything and everyone that came their way. _

_She could be herself- unapologetically so._

_Places to party, places to eat, places to make art and paint and put the world on its head._

_But one thing was missing._

_Of course, one thing was missing._

_That one thing that was going to pick her up from the airport in her mom's old car._

_Katya hadn't even been sure if she wanted to move to go to college, let alone move all the way to Boston. But when she'd showed Trixie her acceptance letter, seen how excited she was, she realized that maybe Katya was the one in the wrong._

_Can you give up your future for the person you love?_

_It's not like Trixie and Katya had stopped talking, or anything. They talked on the phone for hours every weekend, Katya annoying the hell out of her roommate when she would laugh loudly in their small dorm room._

_Still, Katya missed seeing her best friend, missed seeing her smile, the way she focused on a task, biting her thumbnail. She missed hearing her play her guitar, her voice helping Katya cope with all of her fears._

_But the missing was going to be over now. For the whole summer. And then Trixie would come with her to Boston, and then she could see that smile and hear that voice every day._

_And yet, her heart was still now beating like a maniacal bongo drum, keeping her pulse up as the plane slowly descended._

_The airport was a small one- old, dingy, with carpeted floors bearing the faint smell of feet and spilled foods. Clutching her duffel bag in her hand Katya made for the exit, wishing to spend the least possible amount of time in the presence of people either grumpy, in desperate need to get away from the middle of nowhere, or both._

_It wasn't hard to make out Trixie Mattel where she was standing in the parking lot, her bright pink dress lighting up the whole world. At least it seemed so amongst the boring asphalt and grey cars._

_Seeing her put a smile on Katya's lips, a smile that was reserved for her Trixie and her only._

_Noticing Katya, she ran towards her, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders._

_Katya barely managed to get out “Hey Wonder Woman, who-“ before she was cut off by Trixie’s strong arms around her waist, her words replaced by a sharp intake of air._

_Hugging Trixie was coming home more than anything else could ever be._

_Her soft hair, her body smelling like apples and fabric softener where she held her, and she wanted nothing else than to hold her right there in that parking lot forever._

_*_

_"You look so good, Trixie," Katya said, her feet up on the dashboard, her fingers tapping along to Fleetwood Mac's tunes streaming out from the car's speakers._

_Trixie didn't reply- which was weird, since Katya honestly was expecting some comment on her ultimate hotness in her partly dirty hot pants and green turtleneck. Katya looked over at her where she was driving, her hands steady on the steering wheel. She really did look like a summer dream; blonde curls cascading down her shoulders and full, pink lips. And her cheeks were- quite unmistakably- red. She was blushing. Because of something Katya said._

_Katya held on to that thought, mulling it over in her head till she couldn’t help grinning._

_The familiar Midwest scenery rushed past them, and after a long time away from it, Katya had no problem with welcoming it back into her life again._

_"Oh-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ah. I wanna be with you everywhere," Katya sang at the top of her lungs, making Trixie laugh._

_"Shut up, stupid," Trixie said, her cheeks still flushed._

_Katya kept singing then, her voice loud and uneven. She knew just how to make Trixie smile._

_So, of course Trixie had to laugh some more, her eyes for a moment swiping over Katya, deep brown and piercing._

_In Boston Katya could be whoever she wanted to, she could meet whoever she wanted to, sleep with whoever she wanted to. She could make art, learn new things- about herself and about the whole wide world._

_But the bright lights, the loud crowds, the life of the city- in comparison to this?_

_In comparison to this it faded away to meaningless white noise, because- of all the whoevers she could be, the only one that mattered was the one next to Trixie Mattel._

_"Do the people in Boston realize how stupid you are?" Trixie asked, her mouth in a big, pink smile._

_Katya rolled down her window, letting in the warm summer air._

_"Nah. They don't have a clue."_

 

*** 

Katya never meant to leave the party. 

Katya never meant to not return to the apartment that night. Or that morning. 

She never meant to end up on a bus stop in the outskirts of Chicago with nothing but a bruised elbow, a semi-dead camera and some cash either. 

But here she is, the morning sun shining down mercilessly on her tired legs, the plastic bus stop-seat digging into her thighs. The only sound she can hear is chirping from some birds in a nearby tree, and her own thoughts- which are both loud and weak and everything at once. 

Is there such a thing as the 'right person at the wrong time'? 

Depends how you look at it. Maybe it is, and it may ruin an otherwise true love. Or maybe it isn't, because it can never be the _wrong time_ for love. Or something like that. Who is Katya kidding?   
She has no idea about the philosophy of love. 

The right _words_ , wrong time, on the other hand. That's another story. 

The four words in question for Katya are exactly the words she feels like she's been waiting to hear for the last five years. 

 

"I still love Katya." 

 

Right words. Agreed. 

Right person. Most definitely. 

But the time- oh, sweet Jesus. The time. 

Katya's never had a problem with being around drunk Trixie. Almost quite the opposite, actually. Drunk Trixie is silly and bubbly, and generally a good time. 

The problem here, is that drunk people in general are a little harder to trust than your average sober human being. 

And if there's one thing Katya wishes she could do right now, it's to trust Trixie. 

Her head is currently pounding hard, not because of alcohol- Katya doesn't drink much- but because of a pretty intense lack of water. In addition to the fucking whirlpool of emotions inside her, of course. 

Katya was once told by her old therapist that “maybe she sometimes was better at talking about her emotions than actually _feeling_ them.”   
Which is an understatement. 

Katya has a lot of pretty (and not-so-pretty) words for feelings she can barely recognize for all the money in the world. 

Right now, for instance, she could say that she felt immense relief, and tremendous uncertainty, all fueled by an internal fire of love and passion. Some pointless rambling like that. 

What’s really going on is that Katya feels surges of energy come and go in her body, some making her a little nauseous, some making her want to run five laps around the block. 

And those fancy words may be the cause of that, but that’s not really what Katya’s _feeling._

“Fuck,” she says loudly into the still morning air. 

About five busses have come and gone since Katya arrived at the stop, no one leading where Katya wants to go. Mainly because Katya doesn't have a clue where she wants to go- she only knows she has to go _somewhere._

In her later years Katya's found that the only surefire way to cope with too many emotions is doing something. 

Not like watching something on Netflix or listening to an album on your phone. 

No. 

Actually going somewhere and doing something where you can see the process from point A to B. 

That's why, when the white bus comes rolling towards the stop for the sixth time, Katya gets up and leaves the lonely bus stop behind. 

 

*   
The little bell over the door rings loud and clear as Katya passes through the doorway, the smell of old tires and cigarettes swallowing her whole.   
The sight meeting her is diverse; stacks of partly worn-out tires and car seat cushions, windshield wipers and actual car bumpers in messy piles and various other half-shady-looking accessories, spread across some wooden book cases. 

Katya loves it. 

She can't make out the farther end of the store from where she stands at the entrance, so she walks further inside, letting her hand trace the shelves, making lines in the thick layer of dust resting on top of them. 

"Hello?" Katya calls out, reconsidering if jumping off the bus in favor of a possibly abandoned shop was a bad decision. 

No one replies, so Katya keeps walking, careful not to step at any of the bits and pieces on the linoleum floor. The light dims out as she nears the back, the flickering ceiling lights overhead not helping very much with the situation. 

"Hello?" Katya says again, hoping silently she isn't breaking and entering. The door was open, after all. 

Behind a shelf full of partly broken rearview mirrors is the end wall, decorated with fading posters of fancy cars and pinup models. Katya picks up one of the mirrors, looking at her bleak reflection. 

"I'm closed." 

A hoarse voice makes Katya jump, and instinctively she drops the mirror, flinching when it lands with a thud. The glass now has a fresh crack running through it. Looking round to locate the voice she discovers a scratched wooden counter with an old-fashioned cash register almost covering up a head of long, dark grey hair. 

"Um- the front door was open. And the sign said you're open." 

The woman behind the counter doesn't look up from her crosswords, she only sits there, leaned back in her chair, her nose in the paper. 

"It always does. It always fucking does," she murmurs before raising her voice, "that doesn't mean I'm open at nine on a _Saturday,_ I'm not an asswipe, either." 

The woman talks in a heavy accent that Katya can't quite place, other than that it's farther south than her own. The woman seems to be in her sixties, deep wrinkles around her eyes where she’s tapping her pencil lazily against the desk. 

“Ah, but I'll pay my way out of this one,” Katya replies, smiling charmingly with what she has left of energy. 

The woman slowly lifts her head at that, her eyes slightly hooded. She looks Katya up and down, then cocks her head a little. 

"What're you? Some kind 'o punk?" 

Katya laughs, her voice wheezy. She already adores this woman. 

"Absolutely. And you?" 

The woman shrugs, kicking her feet up on the counter. 

"Deborah," she says, pronouncing it without the o, like 'debrah'. 

After a moment of consideration, Deborah nods a little, before scratching out some letters in her crosswords. 

“Yeah, kay, look 'round all you want, but don’t you ruin anything.” 

Katya ends up finding exactly what she knows she doesn't need. Or- more like what she didn't know she needed. More like that, Katya convinces herself where she carries the way-too-heavy box of front lights back to Deborah. The cardboard is dented and threatens to give away as Katya moves the box, her muscles being tested under its weight. It makes a loud bang as she drops it on the floor next to an armchair that looks like it's seen better days. 

"Ten letters for a baseball position," Deborah mutters as Katya dumps into the armchair. She then scribbles on her crosswords, spelling aloud something sounding very similar to 'motherfucking arse' in Katya's opinion. 

"You mind if I smoke?" Katya asks, figuring it's not too rude to do so, considering the tobacco stench already stuck in the walls. 

"Go 'head twinkle-bottom. Pass one over, will ya?" Deborah drops her paper to the floor, leaning further back in her chair. 

Katya gets a cigarette for herself, then throws the pack over to the lady, lighting her own with her lighter. 

"You don't like baseball, I take it?" Katya says, unable to keep a trace of humor from her voice. 

Deborah puts away her own lighter and takes a long drag of the smoke, blowing an impressive grey cloud up towards the ceiling. 

"Well, fuck if I enjoy it as much as my fucking ex-husband," she replies, "that stupid son of a bitch." 

Katya's lips twitch as she holds back a smile, the smoke filling up her lounges as she mimics Deborah's movements. 

They sit like that for a while, Katya's mind gone almost blank as a result of too much traffic. The lights overhead are flickering on and off, when they're shining casting shadows over Deborah's face. She's beautiful, really. She looks a little like Katya's mother, all elegant angles and complementing lines. Except Katya's mom has an overwhelmingly kind aura, which Deborah may be somewhat lacking. 

"Who done it?" 

Deborah has her green eyes on the ceiling fan, but her voice is hoarse and direct. 

Katya leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees. 

"Who done what?" 

The other woman looks Katya in the eye, puts her feet back down on the floor. 

"Broke that goddamn heart of yours, 'course." 

Katya takes a breath, a little taken aback. Then she rubs her hands across her face. 

"Oh... well- it's not really broken. More, weathered, or, like, troubled," Katya says, fumbling with her words, "but, fuck it, it's all on me." 

Deborah looks amused, her lips in the tiniest little smile. 

"You managed that all by your own, sparkle bum?" 

Katya lets out her breath hard, studies her cigarette like she has never seen one before. 

"Well, there was also one hell of a woman, and some large amount of alcohol involved." 

Deborah rakes a hand through her long, straight hair, and for a second, she looks like she's lived for a thousand years. 

"If I had a dollar..." She says, and Katya can't help but laugh out loud. 

She watches her cigarette get smaller at her next intake, before she speaks up again. 

"What now, you give me some lesson?" Katya raises her eyebrow skeptically. 

Deborah looks dead serious. 

"I dunno how to lesson for shit," she says, her smoke dangling from her lip. "Only thing I know is there ain't nothing you can control except for your own damn actions." 

Katya has to blink a couple of times to realize the accuracy of her words. She grips the armrest and dumps her cigarette in an ashtray on the floor as the words sink in. 

"So don't marry a guy who'll leave ya to chase a flying ball with a stick." 

The last words fly straight past Katya's head, because suddenly she has the urge to get up and out of here. She rises from the chair, her head dizzy from the sudden movement. 

"Thank you, Debbie. I'd kiss you, but I also have to make some art, so me paying for these headlights may be sufficient?" She talks fast, already laying the cash on the counter before she's finished her sentence. 

Deborah raises her eyebrows a little before shrugging, picking up her crosswords again. 

"See ya round, Twinkie," she calls in her hoarse voice after Katya as she carries her headlights out of the store. 

 

*   
The bus ride to the art gallery is both tiring and confusing, considering that Katya doesn't have any where she is, since her phone is dead- no google maps- and people keep bumping into her box, making her almost trip over herself more than one time. When she finally gets to the gallery the box collapses, the lights rolling across the shiny floor. Katya kicks it into a corner of the room, making it for the door again, before turning around and plugging her tired old Huawei to the charger and drinking some water from the tap in the bathroom. Then she leaves.   
It's interesting how you can both win and lose so much in one day. 

Katya's exhibition opens tomorrow and should be completely shined and ready to go by now, but she has to add one more specific picture. She just knows she has to, or she won't be content with anything. And the headlights, but that's optional. 

Luckily, the first photo shop she walks into offers to have her photograph printed by tomorrow morning, leaving it ready at the perfect time. Katya walks out of the store with a bounce in her step, feeling her despair from earlier fade away. Things are going to work out. They will, like they somehow always do. She just needs to get out some emotions stuck a little deep inside her. So, she returns to the gallery again, which has turned into her safe space. Yet also a space she can't wait to get out of, after spending so many hours there. If she can only get those headlights together, now. That would be something. 

There are wires in the supply closet, and even though Shea told Katya strictly not to 'make any artsy-mess' in the gallery, Katya excuses herself to get it anyway, knowing that she'll never find piece if she doesn't get this light installation up and running. 

Katya's never been particularly handy. Growing up in the countryside, that makes you stand out quite a bit. And Katya already stood out pretty obviously, back then. She would always join in on the painting of houses, the fixing of tractors, the feeding of animals- but she never got the hang of it. Trixie, on the other hand, was born for all those things. She would do it all neatly at top speed, with a little pink flair to everything. Katya could vividly recall the image of Trixie in denim overalls, fixing on their neighbor's tractor, and Katya being so distracted by her she ended up mixing all the tools her best friend asked for. 

Art was another story. Expressing herself through lines on paper and moments caught on camera was enough for Katya's hands to follow all the technical stuff. 

Wiring the headlights together has less to do with art, as Katya learns, and more to do with actual technical skills. 

She sweats her ass off, lifting the lights as she twines the wire under them, the metal digging into her palms. She has to start over about seven times, because she doesn't have any idea   
whatsoever of what she's doing. Eventually, she figures it out, though. And it clears her mind. The steady rhythm of the movements- lift, wire, replace, put down. On and on till things turn foggy, like when you work out long enough for your body not to notice anything anymore. 

When she plugs the final product into the power outlet, and it actually works, all the power seeps out of her at once. 

Her headache makes a strong comeback, her stomach growling like a wild animal. The only edible thing she can find is a bag of dried mango in Shea's office, so that's what she grabs, promising she'll pay Shea back in plenty of dried mango. 

Katya lets herself sink into the material of the fancy pouf in the middle of the main room, her body welcoming the relaxing sensation warmly. She opens the plastic bag of fruit, but her head is shutting off, her back leaning further and further into the pouf. 

Everything's ready. There's nothing she has to think about. 

Well, of course Trixie is ever looming at the corners of her mind, almost tugging her out of her doze, but not quite. 

The silence of the room wraps around her like a blanket as she lets her eyelids slowly fall shut. Thinking is for the partly alive. 

*** 

**5 years ago**

_Katya was woken up by a light tapping at the window, close to her ear where her cheek was pressed against the now cool glass._

_Opening her eyes just a crack she could glimpse Trixie's room, which was now considerably lighter than it had been before she fell asleep. Wondering how long exactly Katya's nap had lasted for she rubbed at her eyes, leaning away from the windowsill slowly._

_Trixie was still splayed across her bed, the side of her face buried in her Asterix and Obelix comic, her breath steady and completely relaxed._

_Katya was content with listening to that consistent, soft sound until she dozed off again, but then the tapping returned at the window._

_As it grew stronger Katya turned to peer outside, only to find that the tapping was simply drops of rain hitting the windowpane with more and more force. But not only was it raining heavily- the sun was also breaking through the clouds, reflecting in the water and shining brightly._

_Shaking her head Katya mumbled something incomprehensible- even to herself- and began getting to her feet._

_"Trixie."_

_Her best friend didn't even move a finger._

_"Trixie!"_

_Trixie stirred, groaning loudly before stretching her hands over her head._

_"Trixie! It's raining!"_

_Trixie picked up her comic and threw it at Katya, missing her by a solid five feet._

_"I've seen fucking rain before, idiot!"_

_Katya laughed and grabbed Trixie's hand, beginning to drag her out of the plump bed._

_"Come, please, now!"_

_*_

_A curtain of water fell over them as they stepped outside, making Trixie jump a little when it hit her bare arms._

_Katya was right- through the rain the sun beamed down on them, cutting clean and making faint rainbows appear here and there; above the gravel road; up Katya's driveway; over by the newsstand; across a nearby tree._

_Trixie scratched her head, looking up at the light and the grey clouds._

_Katya was standing so close to her she could feel the goosebumps on Trixie’s arms, which sent goosebumps up Katya’s too._

_When Trixie drew her eyes back from the sun she caught Katya’s where they’d been resting on her._

_Katya’s breath hitched then, her body tingling with energy as the rain streamed down her hair and her face which must have been as easy to read as an open book._

_She didn’t know why it had taken her until late August the year she turned nineteen to do what she did next, but it didn’t matter._

_What did matter was that she laid her hand across Trixie’s cheek, closed her eyes like she was jumping into cold water, and kissed her._

_Trixie took a step back at first, and Katya was afraid she'd done something completely wrong, but then her best friend kissed her back with full force, her hand suddenly splayed across the small of Katya's back, pulling her closer._

_And it was far from perfect- both of them shivering a little and some itchy clothing tag digging into Katya’s hip- but it also felt like it was what the whole universe was waiting for. Trixie's wavy hair wasn't wet yet where Katya wound it through her fingers, her long eyelashes tickling Katya's cheek._

_Drawing back just enough for her to see Katya clearly, without breaking the closeness between them, Trixie said, “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to do that.”_

_Katya almost snorted, but she couldn't do anything but laugh in that moment, so that's what she did._

_“Oh, you have no idea.”_

 

*** 

 

The hospital where Trixie works looks pretty alike to the other hospitals Katya has seen in her time. Simple architecture with cheap stone, the lines straight and the windows lined up back to back. Katya sits in the parking lot, which is almost completely empty, except for a couple of lonely cars. She's lounging on the raised ledge where the lot merges with the pavement. 

She woke up to utter darkness in the gallery, a sandwich and a note from Shea on the floor next to the pouf. The note had instructed her not ever to steal Shea's mangoes again, and that she should eat the sandwich, because she looked like 'a complete 'dragged behind a car on the highway for a couple of hours after running a marathon'- kinda mess'. As she ate she'd gotten the sudden urge to get closer to Trixie. One of her primal instincts, but right then she knew she needed it more than ever. Also knowing that Trixie'd probably be done with her nightshift in not too long, Katya found her way to the hospital parking lot. 

Now she's tugging up some stray tufts of grass, her tired butt digging into the asphalt, beginning to second-guess her decision. 

From the parking lot you can see through the windows on the first floor, and Katya makes out the contours of some offices and storage rooms, and one room full of machines and benches and gadgets Katya can't recognize. After some time sitting in the darkness Katya is shook out of her reverie when the fluorescent lights inside the room are turned on, someone entering through the door. Katya can make out two figures, one a lot shorter than the other, both carrying blankets that are wrapped around what Katya can only assume are babies. One of them has got long, blonde locks, the other one, quite unmistakably, a pink ponytail. 

Katya sucks in her breath. 

Only now does she realize how perfect of a profession Trixie has ended up with for herself. She looks so kind in her blue uniform Katya almost starts hyperventilating. She's chatting with the other person as she gently rocks the baby, her arms incredibly steady. 

Steady. 

The word echoes inside Katya's mind, and of course it does. What Katya lacks so obviously with her artistry, her stupid words and decisions and weakness. The lack of steadiness. And then there's Trixie with her soft smile, her unfaltering love and consistent support. Bravery, that's what it is, Katya thinks to herself. 

She looks away from the window, figuring if she spies any longer it'll turn creepy. 

Not too long later the light in the room shuts off again, and Katya takes it as her cue to move towards the entrance. Trixie has to be finished sometime now- the sky is lightening up, even a few cars speeding by on the nearby road. 

She stands under one of the streetlights, wondering what she's going to say when she meets Trixie. Ask her out for breakfast, maybe. Propose with a non-existent ring. Tell her how she's looking like a goddess, and how she would learn how to sculpt for her sake only, if simply to depict her beauty in marble. But, of course a sculpture would never capture the essence of Trixie. 

Her thoughts whirr like that until finally someone emerges from the building. 

Katya steps out of the orange light from the streetlight, relieved that the person is non other than her best friend. 

When she realizes who it is Trixie shakes her head a bit, as if dissolving fog inside her mind. She takes a few steps back, her calves bumping against a potted plant behind her. 

"Katya? What the fuck? Where have you been?" Trixie's voice is a pitch higher than it usually is, surprising Katya with its intensity. 

"I'm sorry, I should have reached out or something," Katya smiles apologetically, "I just needed some time to process what you did- " Katya goes on, but Trixie cuts her off. 

"What?" She replies, crossing her hands protectively over her chest, "what exactly was it that I did do? Bob just told me I got a little heavy-handed on the drinks, but you seem to think something fucking else, don’t you?” 

Katya rubs her neck. Trixie's got an angry furrow between her eyes, and the conversation isn’t going anywhere near where Katya wanted it to. 

“I mean, you sure were drunk, and-“ 

“What exactly did I _do_ , Katya?” Trixie’s voice is harsh now, shots firing at Katya, who was so unprepared for this she almost wants to throw up. She grounds herself. 

“You honestly don’t remember?” Katya asks her out of sheer disbelief. 

“No, tell me, for fuck’s sake!” 

Katya takes a breath, clenching her fists. No way to avoid it now. 

“…you said- you-" she stutters, "you said you still love me.” 

Trixie takes another step back at that, something shifting inside her eyes, like someone just turned on the lights. 

“Trixie?” Katya’s voice is weak, barely carrying her through the two-syllable word. The wind is blowing harshly around them, flinging pink hair hard around her friend's face. 

She squints her eyes at Katya, looking more hostile than Katya's ever seen her. She'd never looked that way at her worst enemies. Katya feels sick to her stomach. 

“And… and what? So what?” Trixie's face is both guarded and vulnerable at the same time. “It’s not like you love me back, anyways. Maybe you never did, what do I know?” 

Katya takes a step towards her best friend, reaches out to grab her hand, but she just draws further away. Katya lets her hand drop. 

“And you leaving all those years ago broke the fuck out of my heart. You know that? I was _completely alone_. Alone in the space I once thought was ours. Ironic, huh? We were just you and me, Katya. And you left.” 

Katya wants to interfere, to shout at her to stop this right now, but the words won’t come. 

“And you know what’s worse? Cherry fucking on top?” Trixie's voice rises, making the hairs on Katya's arms stand up painfully. 

She doesn’t want Katya to reply, and she knows it. 

Her whole body is trembling, shivers running through her, out of anger or out of sadness, Katya doesn't know. Yet, her eyes are still locked steady on Katya. 

“I. Still. Love. You.” On the last few words her voice cracks, and something breaks inside her eyes, tears beginning to run down her beautiful cheeks. 

And then her Trixie walks away, leaving Katya with only the dying sound of her hurried, soft footsteps. The sun is slowly rising around her, but inside her, darkness is falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this [moodboard](https://pin.it/txwmnham3aovfq) and this [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/yj4zipyrxt1o8l4312ytpunfc/playlist/2KdYaKDY8EQMciIXdioiBz?si=yETXLrw-SauiZgyg5TOwTA) are my apologies for leaving you with another cliff-hanger <3


	5. When You're Not Afraid of The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe our purpose  
> is to never give up  
> when we're on the right track 
> 
> -MUNA, I Know A Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heey friends!! 
> 
> (N.B.!) so, in this chapter there are mentions of cancer and hospitals- just know that if you have some experience with serious illness or might just not go well with that stuff, i think it's doable to just skip past it if you prefer to do that. i, personally also have experience with illness around me, so if you want to talk to anybody, i'm here for you!<3
> 
> and everyone, please enjoy the chapter you lovely people!!

**5 years ago**

_"Trixsie!"_

_A voice cut through the darkness of Trixie's sleep, making her turn over in her bed, opening her eyes slowly._

_"Trixsie!"_

_Trixie was surprised to find the bedroom was still as dark as it had been when she fell asleep. The covers were warm against her naked skin, tempting her back to sleep._

_"Trixie, wake up!" Another voice._

_A hand touched her shoulder, and she shook it off, pushing herself into an upright position. There, in front of her, stood her little sisters, both of them in their pajamas, their eyes wide. Trixie looked around her with groggy eyes, almost yelling out as she realized Katya was splayed across the bed next to her._

_"Katya! Shit, you fell asleep!" Trixie said desperately. Katya must have, as Trixie now was realizing, fallen asleep before she managed to get home last night- and now she was lying naked next to her, only covered by the sheets._

_She tossed herself over to face Trixie, grunting._

_"Why're you screaming, Trixie? We know you're gay," June said then, rolling her eyes._

_Trixie put her hands to her temples, rubbing them as she said, "why would you wake us up, then? We're leaving for Boston tomorrow mornin-"_

_"It's mom," Lizzie said in a weak voice, her expression solemn._

_"Someone called your phone, and it wouldn't stop ringing, so I picked it up, and they said she's in the hospital," June filled in, talking fast as if it would make the words less scary. It didn't. At least not in Trixie's opinion._

_"What?" Trixie said out of sheer shock._

_She shook Katya's shoulder hard, and as her best friend woke up again Trixie picked up their clothes, hurrying to get dressed so they could leave._

_*  
The car ride to the hospital was the opposite of delightful, with everyone almost just as stressed and anxious. Katya was driving- even though she was a horrible driver- since Trixie had to call the hospital to let them know they were on their way. The girls in the backseat were quiet all the way, not a complaint coming from their mouths. _

_Bright, synthetic lighting lit up the corridors they walked through when they arrived at the hospital, the walls echoing hollowly as they solemnly followed a nurse in a turquoise uniform. He spoke in a soft, low voice Trixie knew he used mostly so the children wouldn't be too upset._

_Their mom had passed out at work, her coworkers had called an ambulance, and she was doing alright now. At least that's what the nurse said as long as the kids were there._

_"So, Miss Mattel, there seems to be an underlying reason for this. Your mother is not well," he told Trixie after Katya had followed her sisters into their mother's room._

_Trixie felt like throwing up._

_Instead she bit her thumbnail hard, leaning her other hand heavily against the glossy, cold wall next to her._

_"What're we talking about here?"_

_The nurse looked at Trixie sympathetically, but Trixie could tell he was about to leave from his stance, and his next words were no surprise._

_"I'm sorry, dear, but that's all I can tell you right now. A doctor will come by later," he said before giving Trixie a pat on the shoulder and walking away._

_When she entered the hospital room her mother was lying in the bed, sleeping, Katya sat between the two girls on a little sofa in the corner. If she hadn't been on the verge of vomiting she would have kissed her best friend right then for how good she always was to her and her family. Looking away from Katya, she walked over to her mother's bed, laid her hand on the covers. The nurse was right, she didn't look well. Her skin was almost grey, her body skinny where it'd never been. Trixie wondered why she hadn't noticed before. She cursed herself for it._

_"What did he say?" Katya's voice was low, her gaze at Trixie intensely worried._

_Trixie swallowed around the growing lump in her throat._

_"I don't fucking know."_

_*  
Their mother hadn't just passed out from stress. There was something underneath. When the doctor arrived, he told Trixie that their mother was showing signs that were most likely symptoms of cancer in the small intestine. They had to examine her to know how bad of a case it was, but the doctor had told her in a kind voice not to worry too much. _

_That's when Trixie threw up._

 

*** 

 

Sometimes it feels like the end of the world. 

One hundred percent, the world can't possibly fucking move on after this. 

Things seem completely pointless, if only for a couple hours, because the world is broken and nobody else seems to notice. The end of the world. How fucking accurate.  
The last time Trixie felt like this was that august five years ago. 

She'd had to stay home that year; drop her college plans, take up a job and a course at the community college in town. How else would her family survive that? Her brother couldn't drop out of his scholarship, although he did visit as often as he could, sending them money when he could. 

Trixie had been pushing through darkness, even though she was just a teenager. Sometimes life makes you do that. 

Sometimes it's the end of the world. 

Trixie's got some of that feeling as she lies in her dark bedroom, her blinds shut and her eyes open. She's in full clothes, only her shoes lying by the end of the mattress. 

"Trix, babe, we know you're awake!" Shea calls through the door at one point, but Trixie doesn't reply. 

Kim must be out there as well, because a second later she chimes in, too. 

"I made food for you!" 

Trixie doesn't make a noise. 

They mumble something. She can hear them saying something about Katya. Or at least that's what she thinks. Everything seems to revolve around that one woman right now. 

Somehow, she knows when they walk away, and that makes her feel even worse, even though she can just go out and join them. Laugh and eat with them. Like it's not the end of the world.  
She knows she's being dramatic. 

That she shouldn't take all of this so seriously. 

That she shouldn't be having all these sad, hopeless thoughts, lying here completely alone, completely quiet in her bedroom. But she can't help it. She doesn't have the willpower. 

Yet, to Trixie, there's almost nothing else in the world more serious than her love. What on earth is she supposed to do without her? 

But Katya is too much for her. 

Too much passion, too much nerve. Too much directness. 

Too much fire. 

Trixie lets the air she breathes in travel deep down into her stomach. Fill her with this odd feeling. She can't fall asleep. She should be tired right now. After a nightshift, after getting emotionally punched in the stomach. And she is tired. But she's not going to fall asleep. That's for sure. 

So, she lies there, the hours passing by. 

 

*  
"Trixie, Shea left some time ago, and I'm leaving now, for the pre-party for the exhibition," Kim says as she cracks the door open, a tiny beam of light breaking through the void around her. 

Trixie replies with her steady breathing. 

The room lightens up more before going dark again as Kim steps through the doorway. She stands by the further end of Trixie's room, and Trixie knows she can see her much clearer than Kim can her, since Trixie's eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Trixie looks up at the ceiling again, her limbs heavy against the mattress. 

"This is about Katya," Kim states. Not a question. A statement. 

Trixie agrees, of course, but she doesn’t say anything. Her vocal cords are malfunctioning. 

"You've told me the story. I remember it, of course," Kim goes on. 

Kim reaches out her hand to lay it comfortingly on Trixie's leg, but Trixie draws away. She regrets it immediately. 

"Okay. I understand," Kim says, sounding a little like Trixie's mother. "I don't have a lot of experience with these kind of relationship things. I don't have a wish to, either- that's not my point...  
Trixie, have you seen yourself around this girl?" 

Trixie moves further away from Kim, as an impulse, and she rests her head against the wall. 

"I don't know how, but with her, you seem like Trixie with the volume all the way up. And when you guys look at each other, it's like I could scream at you with a megaphone and you wouldn't care about anything else than each other." 

Trixie feels like her heart is stuck in her throat. 

"And I should probably say it's annoying, but it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen," Kim says sincerely, and then adds, "but also really annoying sometimes." 

Trixie makes a noise she believes is somewhere between a squawk and a laugh. 

"Well, I don't know what you should do- I don't know what Katya was like before, but right now, she seems like a person who's trying her best. Who cares for you more than you care for yourself," Kim says, then she pats the covers on the bed and moves to leave again. 

Trixie doesn't say a word. 

 

* 

Two scenes keep replaying in Trixie's head. 

One is from the hospital the morning after her mother had been taken there. They'd all been sent out of the room, because their mother was going to be examined, and Trixie's siblings were arguing about something stupid. 

"Liza, shut up! You're trying to pick a fight!" June’s words ring out through the room Trixie lies in now, echoing against the walls. 

Trixie hushed her sisters, giving them a couple of bucks before she sent them away to find some food for themselves. 

When she turned around, Katya was standing there, her backpack hanging on her strong shoulders. 

"I've got to catch the plane," she said. She looked down at the floor, her head drooping a little. Then she rubbed her neck hard, looking up at Trixie again. 

Trixie didn't have any energy left. She couldn't help but let out a little whimper. She sounded pathetic. 

Katya grabbed her around her waist then, locked the two of them in a tight embrace. Trixie's consciousness threatened to slip away. 

As she walked away, Katya called out after her. 

"I love you, Trixie Mattel." 

Trixie lays her hand on her chest in the dark room, feeling the words dig in to her core. 

Then the moments from last night resurface, and she has to relive them, too. 

When her own voice shouts at her, and the words, "we were just you and me, Katya. And you left," hits her like a truck on the highway, she can't take it anymore. She gets out of the bed so fast it sends her head spinning. With desperate moves she jerks the blinds open again, letting in the afternoon light. In the mirror across from where she stands she catches her own reflection- her makeup ruined, her clothes all rumpled up. And worse, the color seems to have seeped right out of her. Her hair isn't the bright pink it was yesterday. 

She leans against the wall, her head thudding hard against the plaster. 

Her eyes sweep over the wall opposite of her, over the drawings and prints, before resting at a photo in the center. The picture is six years old, depicting a laughing Trixie with a teenage Katya on her back. It's taken in a field not far from their childhood home, where they were trespassing with Bob for adventure-purposes. Trixie's looking at the camera, never letting go of a photo opportunity. Katya, on the other hand, is looking at Trixie, a smile on her lips so special Trixie almost flinches when she looks at it now. 

Trixie stomps out of the room, feeling like the walls are closing in upon her. 

She doesn't want food, but she eats what Kim made anyway, feeling warmth in her heart when she reads the lovely note from her and Shea, reminded of how amazing her friends are. She sits down by the tiny kitchen table, which now seems like the biggest table in the world. With every spoon of the hot soup she feels like she gets tugged closer and closer back to reality. 

Another feeling emerges from the depths of her gut, too. 

Guilt. 

Guilt so bad it proves it's not the end of the world. 

Even if it had been possible that something's the end of the world, it can't be the end of the world if your conscience is working. 

Trixie may be irrational. Stupid, even. 

But she can tell when she's done an injustice to someone. 

The anger, the hopelessness she'd felt. It was for the world. But the world doesn't take your complaints. So Trixie let it out at the only person she could. The only person it would hurt to do so.  
And it hurt so much. 

Life took away her Katya. 

And now she's back, back with all the fire and love that she is, and Trixie's _sitting in her apartment,_ eating _soup?_

She dumps the dishes in the sink and starts walking in circles around the apartment, biting her thumbnail and kicking at random objects out of sheer annoyance. Her brain arguments with her as she goes. Thud. Argument. Thud-crack. Counter argument. Crash-thud, thud. 

"If Katya was interested at all she would've run after you yesterday," it says, but she replies, "people don't always react the way you expect them to!" 

Her brain goes on, "if she had the same feelings you have for her, she would've done something." 

Trixie sighs and kicks the sofa, hard. Thud. Flop. One of Shea's magazines lands on the floor. 

"Maybe so. But if I don't do something now I'll _never know!_ " She shouts up at the ceiling. 

Her brain is quiet as she leaves the apartment. 

 

* 

Sharp wind hits Trixie's face as she crosses the street, her ears filled with white noise as if she's been thrown into a dryer going at full speed. Dodging between two cars parked outside she closes up on the tall, slim, navy blue building. She pauses at the entrance to the gallery, her hands deep in the pockets of her light jacket. A white sign is propped up against the entrance, red, seemingly hand-written letters spelling out the words, "relax! Nothing's under control." 

Through the glass door she can spot formally dressed people standing in groups around the dark room, all clothed in colors matching the gallery walls, looking put-together and artsy at the same time. Trixie gives her own attire a second glance. Her day-old pastel skirt and jacket don't seem to belong well here. Nor does her hair, which won't cooperate in the slightest, looking like some newborn flamingo babies decided to take up residence on top of her head. 

"Hi, I love you more than anything else, and I don't know what the _hell_ I'm supposed to do if you don't love me back- but I show up to your really important gallery-opening looking like a sleep deprived piece of not-so-tasty gum." 

What a look. 

She opens the door anyway, praising the heavens it doesn't creak as she does so. 

Once inside she immediately moves to the back of the large room, standing in the shadow where the light from the lamps and the windows can't reach her. 

Something makes her want to hide away a little. She feels vulnerable all of a sudden. So she keeps quiet, waiting silently. 

Katya is standing on a fancy black box in the far corner of the room, the extra feet making it possible for her blond waves to peek up above the crowd. Her face is turned away from her, but even from where Trixie's standing she can see that something's wrong. There's a light tremor in her right arm, so faint most people wouldn't notice. Her shoulders are drooping, and Trixie thinks she might fall from her platform from pure exhaustion by the looks of it. 

She must have been saying something, and then paused, because now she drags her hands through her hair, before clenching them in front of her and taking a deep breath. 

"For that I am very grateful," she says, before stopping for a moment. She coughs. 

"They say people 'drift apart'. And a lot of times, that’s the case." Katya nods, like she's agreeing to her own words. 

"But sometimes, life's not a ship. Life's a train, and it-" she takes a deep breath, "it ships you off in a direction you don't want it to go. And then- life's not what you make it," her voice falters a little, but so little it's basically inaudible. 

"Not really." 

She looks down, some of her pale hair falling into her face. 

"Um-" she clears her voice and goes on, "I'm also here to tell you that that train will let you come back to where you always wanted to go. And please take that chance when you can." 

She smiles a smile drained of energy, says, "I'm rambling, sorry. Go on, watch my art!" 

No one seems to notice how fake her cheery voice sounds, how fed up with things she is. Except for Trixie, of course. 

Some cheers sound through the audience, accompanied by a few claps, before the groups scatter, people starting to walk around to see the exhibition. 

There are four rooms, all full of Katya. 

In the biggest one there are photographs lining the walls, in varying mismatching sizes. They depict everything from a little boy standing alone in a train station, to a broken window, through which you can see an old woman with tears streaming down her weathered face. 

In the room furthest to the left is a structure of wire and fabric, lit up by headlights all around it. It looks like the lights shined upon a person once, but then they disappeared, leaving nothing behind but their pants and shirt. 

Trixie walks through the rooms silently, and no one stops her. How she manages to not run into Shea, Kim or Katya in that small space is a riddle Trixie can't quite figure out.  
She stands for a long time leaned against the black wall the third room, looking at a film running on the wall opposite of her. 

The video is black and white, of a guy sitting on a train track, eating an apple. When he throws the apple core over his left shoulder, the video stops, and then it starts again. Back with the new, fresh apple. 

Trixie has no idea what it's supposed to mean, but somehow, she understands it. 

It's communicating in a language Trixie's known all her life. 

 

* 

When she enters the last room Trixie's knees almost buckle. 

A photograph, all pastel colors; a window on a train showing a pink, wispy-clouded sky, and a very familiar face is hanging on the wall, hitting Trixie in the face like a baseball bat. 

Katya must have taken it on the train the other night. In the photo, Trixie's leaning her head against the window, pink hair flowing down her shoulders, her mouth in the tiniest smile. 

It's hard to say so about a picture of yourself, but it really is a beautiful picture. 

Trixie doesn't look particularly pretty, or particularly dramatic or particularly like a piece of art. That's not it. 

The thing is that somehow, the picture holds so much emotion it could kill a large mammal. 

Maybe it's because Trixie knows already, or maybe Katya's pledged her soul to witchcraft so she can convey her feelings through a camera lens, but it gives Trixie a sudden feeling of immense peace. And even more eerie, it makes her certain of the one thing she's been pining herself with for so many years. 

 

*  
The sound of a bicycle whizzing past her rings in Trixie's ears as she looks up at a nearby tree, her hands running through the soft grass beneath her. The air is warm and stuffy now, but she can feel it get lighter as a drop of rain lands on her nose, cold and clear. She raises a hand to her face, wiping off the water with a flick of her index finger.  
She breathes heavily where she’s sitting in a green lung behind the art gallery, just a few feet from the back door. 

Walking out of the gallery without getting noticed was quite easy, actually. She figured she needed to get out, so she just slipped through the semi-secret exit noiselessly. 

The breeze smells of asphalt and plants and summer, the sky above her covered in light clouds, tiny cracks of blue running through it everywhere. Another drop of rain lands on her bare chin, marking her with its light touch. 

Knowing what she now knows, Trixie should perhaps be somewhere else right now. 

But she also knows that there's no rush to do anything in this moment. 

So she leans back on the grass, cushioning her head with her hands. The few people walking past on the sidewalk might be a little surprised at how she settles down, but when Trixie knows how she needs to act it never matters what anyone else thinks. 

And right now she needs to lie on this piece of grass. 

There's a soft silence around her- perfect because it's not complete. 

Closing her eyes, she can hear car tires rolling smoothly over asphalt, and the faint rustle of a tree moving in a sudden gust of wind. She can even hear the clouds above her shifting around, always moving, yet somehow never restless. 

After some time, Trixie doesn't know how long, a low squeak sounds behind her head, followed by a light thud. 

She doesn't open her eyes, even when the footsteps across the grass stop right beside her. 

Suddenly a soft voice above her cuts directly into her heart. 

"Hey Wonder Woman, who left you in the ditch?" 

A shiver runs down Trixie's back as she opens her eyes slowly, squinting up at the person standing over her. 

And of course it’s the woman who’s the reason for all her sleepless nights, the reason every date she’s gone on for the last five years have gone to shit- the reason she knows she'll never be alone again. 

She looks like the night sky above her in her suit glittering covered in tiny, stolen stars. 

 

And, dear lord, how wonderful it feels to look at the night sky when you’re not afraid of the dark anymore. 

 

Sitting down next to her carefully Katya keeps her eyes on the green surface below her, blonde locks falling into her beautiful, beautiful face. 

Trixie tilts her head towards her best friend, resting the side of her face against the earth, her pulse slow and steady. 

"I-" Katya begins, her face still turned down towards the ground between them. 

"You..." She sighs, "You know- it's...I've made a lot of mistakes, Trixie Mattel." 

"I've made so many it's impressive that I am where I am today. Really impressive, to be honest." She shakes her head a little, a tired laugh escaping her lips. 

Raindrops land in her wavy hair, on Trixie’s dark eyelashes. 

Katya draws a deep breath. 

"One mistake I haven't made, the one that matters the most-" she catches Trixie's eyes then, like she's reaching out for her heart, "is not loving you." 

Trixie suddenly has the urge to get as close to Katya as she can, closer so that she can look into the ocean inside her eyes. So she pushes herself off the ground, her eyes leveling with Katya’s. 

"I know," Trixie says. Her voice is a little hoarse, so low it must be hard to hear. It's almost like it could be carried away on the breeze. "I know," she says again. 

The raindrops are falling faster now, one following the other- one of them landing on Katya's cheek, running slowly down to her jaw like a tear. 

Or maybe it is a tear, Trixie thinks to herself. 

She reaches out her hand, wiping off the drop with the palm of her hand like she's done so many times before. And then their lips meet like waves crashing into a rocky seashore and it's like their first kiss all over again, except that it’s a kiss between two human beings who have seen the world and decided that it’s no good without each other. 

Katya shifts around so she’s in Trixie’s lap, pushing her into the grass, her hands in her long, soft hair. And Trixie doesn't kiss her like it's the end of the world. Because it can never be the end of Trixie and Katya. No matter what. 

As they break apart, Katya lets her head rest in the crook of Trixie's neck, her unsteady breath tickling her skin. 

"I don't want to run anymore," Katya whispers, sounding like she's lived for a thousand years. 

Trixie puts her hands on the small of Katya’s back, holding her close- the sensation of her heartbeat close to her again the only thing she needs. And then she says the only words she needs to say. Because she's not afraid anymore. There's no rush for this love. 

"We won't run again, my Katya. We won't run again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you, dear friends, ready for the fluff that is to come? >:D 
> 
> and please (please!!) talk to me, beautiful people! (and thank you, the ones who do!)


	6. A Train-wreck (And A Little Bit of Magic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And if you were to ask me  
> After all that we've been through  
> If I still believe in magic?  
> Well yes, I do 
> 
> Of course I do. 
> 
> -Coldplay, Magic

"Oh my god-oh my god-oh my god!" 

A loud thud sounds behind Katya as Trixie drops the last bag into the trunk, grunting as she pushes the lid down hard until it makes a sharp pop. Katya lets out a high-pitched whine, clutching her chest dramatically. 

"Trixie-Trixie-Trixie!" 

Trixie makes her way around the back of the car and leans next to Katya against the bright yellow, slightly cool metal. The late autumn air is sharp, and the cold makes the hair on Katya's bare arms stand up. Trixie made her put on pants, because apparently skirts are bad in cold weather, but not even the most charming woman in the world could make Katya abandon her 'I'll blame it on the gardener'-shirt for a sweater. And even though she may freeze her ass off Katya's got no regrets. 

Over by the curb on the other side of the road stands Kim in a bright red tutu and pigtails, looking like a complete snack, accompanied by a Shea who is, in Katya's opinion, practically melting away where she's talking to one of Katya's old friends. That friend is, to be specific, Sasha, who used to be Katya's neighbor back in Boston. She just moved to Chicago like Katya did some months ago, after getting a job offer downtown. She also currently looks completely infatuated with Shea in return. Which is why Katya is gushing like crazy. 

"They are so-o-o c-u-u-u-ute!" She says, unable to keep her voice from being a high-pitched squeal. 

She grabs Trixie's hand and shakes it excitedly. Trixie lets it be shook, dragging her other hand through her curly hair, looking like she's considering the matter. 

"I agree, I really do, but don't force it. If anyone had pushed us together, I think-" 

"I'm gonna write fanfiction about them," Katya states matter-of-factly. 

Trixie lets out a deep breath like she's given up before she raises her eyebrows at Katya, smiles defeatedly and asks, "you're gonna write fanfiction about _our friends?_ " 

Katya smirks, says, "yeah, and it's gonna be based off of that fic you wrote in ninth grade, you know, the one where Chewbacca and-" 

"You-" Trixie growls, pointing her finger in a threatening manner at Katya. Katya throws her head back in a wheezy laugh. 

"D'you think I'll get some of the insurance if I kill you?" Trixie says as Kim crosses the street with her light, tiny steps to come hug them goodbye. 

"Don't get lost in all the hay, okay- I'd like you to pay off the rent this month, at least," Katya overhears her saying close to Trixie's ear. 

Sasha and Shea come over too, and it ends up being quite the hugging party. 

As they all walk back to their spot at the curb, Sasha and Shea keep throwing each other flirty looks, bumping casually against each other as they go. 

Katya shoots Trixie a 'I'm definitely right'-look. 

"Remember, I've foreseen it when they get married, I'm calling it out now, I-" 

"I will not let you foresee anyone else's marriage before you propose to me yourself, and get in the car, stupid, it's a long drive," Trixie replies and pushes Katya in the direction in the passenger seat with a sigh. Katya grins. 

"You want me to propose to you?" Katya says while she buckles her seatbelt, simultaneously waving to their friends who are all smiling brightly back at them. "I kinda thought it'd be the other way around, you know. With you being all commitment and-" 

"Shut the fuck up," Trixie growls before she pulls out on to the street. 

 

*  
Heavy, pearly white snowflakes land on the windshield lightly and quickly, melting away to drops of clear water as the wipers push them away. The scenery can only be seen through a filter of hazy white movement, the cold fields and leafless trees barely visible as they drive by. It feels a little like flying through fluffy, white clouds on a plane. The inside of the car is warm, the soft sound of a clear guitar and a hoarse voice ringing through the weathered, old speakers. 

The scratch of the surprisingly bad quality pencil Katya found in the glovebox tickles her ear as the lines on the little piece of paper rubbish appear. She holds the paper close to her face, squinting at her artwork. 

“It’s snowing,” Katya says, placing her sketch on the dashboard and turning her attention to the ever-whitening road ahead of them. 

“I would agree, but that does seem a bit obvious,” Trixie replies, turning the wipers up with a click. 

The wipers aren’t in a cooperative mood, so in that moment they stop working, leaving the windshield unprotected and therefore now clogging up with snow. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- this piece of shit car, I’m suing Deborah, I don’t care how much you love her-“ Trixie practically shouts as she clutches the steering wheel harder with her left hand, pushing the wiper switch down again in a rush with the other. 

They start wiping slowly again then, giving Trixie at least somewhat of a view of the road. 

Katya grins stupidly. 

“You’re suing Deborah?” She teases, leaning closer to her girlfriend, “without her we wouldn’t have a share-car, and she sold us that pink phone holder that was practically made for you. And don't forget this beautiful air freshener…” 

Trixie sticks her tongue out at Katya at that, without taking her eyes of the road for a second. She’s _that responsible_ , Katya’s reminded. And holy shit, _that hot._

“Pull over,” Katya suddenly says, almost even surprising herself. 

“No, I think it’s fine, the wipers are working now-“ 

“Pull over,” Katya repeats. 

“Look, I apologise for ever insulting Deborah’s judgement, okay, we don’t-“ 

“If you don’t pull over here imma make out with you right now, and then we’ll get driven over by a dozen tractors, pick your fate.” 

Trixie makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh before she finally pulls over. 

The snow is, believe it or not, very much falling as Katya hops out of the car, running over to the other side to open the door for her girlfriend. Trixie lets Katya pull her out of her seat by her soft hand, and she shivers a little instantly as the snowflakes land on her flushed cheeks. 

“Babe, you’re gonna freeze to death. You and that stupid gardener-shirt,” she says, shutting the car door behind her with a sharp thud. 

"Oh, I probably need something hot, then," Katya replies, bouncing up and down in her beloved, be-holed sneakers. 

Trixie leans against the car, soft blue sweater against the yellow metal as she raises her dark eyebrows innocently. 

"In this weather? Surely, there's nothing hot out here?" Her lips curve up at the ends so familiarly Katya can't help herself. Pushing her hands through her best friend's thick hair she wraps herself around her, the slight itch from the wool of her sweater and the warmth emitting from her heavenly. 

"Well, I can name one thing, at least," Katya says as she stands on her tiptoes, lips finding Trixie's like they're home. 

Kissing Trixie doesn't always feel like fireworks. Fireworks are overrated. Sometimes it feels like a waterfall, steady but intense. Sometimes it feels like spring rain, light and purifying. Sometimes it feels like heavy fog, drowsy and pure. And sometimes, like now, it feels like lying in a bed of flowers, even though they're in the middle of nowhere, standing in a semi-snow storm. 

Their bodies almost melt together as Katya feels the taste of Trixie's watermelon lip balm in her mouth, her breath fluttering against her cheek, the snowflakes melting on their foreheads. 

"By the way, that air freshener smells like cat litter," Trixie pulls back a little, mutters against Katya's lips. 

Katya laughs and presses more light kisses on her best friend's lips between her words; "no," kiss, "that's," kiss, "just", kiss, "your," kiss, "poor," kiss, "judgement." 

Trixie screech-laughs and suddenly a handful of icy-cold snow hits Katya in the face. After letting out a shout Katya wipes of her glasses for snow sloppily, teasingly growling, "you've got the nerve..." 

And even though Trixie is quick to skip away from Katya, Katya has her plan ready, so as Trixie twirls in the snow Katya grabs her by the hip with her right arm, sweeping her off of her feet with the other. The momentum wasn't as well planned out, so Katya only manages to stay upright for about three seconds before suddenly they're both lying in the snow, Trixie on top of Katya, warming her to her best ability. Trixie leans her head back, her wonderful body shaking with laughter, pink hair fading into white as it fills up with flakes fallen from the grey sky above them. 

Katya has no choice but to smile like a fool then. Like she always does around Trixie. She'll probably be looking like a fool for most of the rest of her life. 

 

*  
"What is she saying?" Katya mumbles and leans across the dashboard. 

"I've no clue in hell," Trixie replies as she slows down, stopping the car in front of the two people in winter coats who are both waving their hands frantically. The snow is still falling, and now that the sun's no longer here to help it's hard to make out any details. 

One of the two figures, who Katya suspects to be her very own mother, is yelling something at them, which is completely incomprehensible through the closed car windows. As Trixie stops the engine Katya unbuckles her seatbelt, jumps out of the car, and immediately lands in a pile of snow swallowing her calves whole. 

Scratching her head, she looks at the women now laughing their asses off further up the driveway. 

"We tried to tell you," Katya's mom shouts with laughter still in her voice as Katya pulls herself loose from the cold substance now seeping through the fabric of her pants. 

Katya simply smiles and shrugs, making her way over to the others with slightly more careful steps. 

Trixie beats her to it- likely because she avoided the snow-swamp- and she's hugging her own mother tightly as Katya reaches them. Katya's mother opens her arms wide when she nears her, and Katya happily returns the embrace. The hug she then gets from Trixie's mom is just as lovely and warm. 

They hurry to bring the bags inside, considering that there are now three people very concerned that Katya might freeze to death, and Katya has to admit that the warmth of her childhood home is very much welcome. 

Trixie's pink suitcase looks slightly out of place when she slides it across the floor of Katya's old room. As well does Trixie herself as she sits down on Katya’s old bed, pastels clashing with the grey sheets. The walls are painted a semi-dark blue colour that can barely be seen underneath all the posters and sketches Katya’s taped up at various points of her upbringing. Katya remembers the floor a lot more cluttered with knick-knacks- everything from tarot cards and drawing tools to candy wrappers- but equally squeaky as she pads across the room to sit next to Trixie. Her best friend is squinting at a drawing next to the closet. The closet itself is barely holding on to its wooden doors. 

“When’s that from?” Trixie asks, nodding to the sketch. 

Katya almost blushes out of habit as she looks at the old envelope with the grey lines etched onto it. It could be interpreted as any random two girls so close it looks like they’ve melted together, but for Katya, and most likely Trixie too, it’s quite obvious that it’s the two of them. Trixie’s curves, the texture of their hair, the angles of their faces. 

Katya lets her head fall onto Trixie’s shoulder and laughs a laugh almost without any trace of embarrassment before saying, “that may have been drawn by some unknown artist my senior year.” 

Trixie responds by humming and leaning her head right on top of Katya’s, pulling her closer by the waist. 

“You really had a huge-ass crush on me, didn’t you?” She says teasingly. 

Katya sighs dramatically and replies, “it never went away. It honestly never went away.” 

 

*  
"Æ-æ-æ," Lizzie reads out loud, a deep crease between her dark eyebrows. 

Katya laughs and picks up the glittery fabric marker. 

“It sounds more like the ‘a’ in ‘blast’,” she says, stretching out the fabric of the black shirt so she can start to outline her cow with the glitter marker, thinking about what a pretty, purple cow it will be. 

Lizzie just shrugs and looks down at her white shirt with growing disgust. 

“Middle school art is bullshit,” she states, putting her palm to her forehead like her head’s hurting. 

“Language!” Comes a call from the living room. 

Katya’s sitting with Liz, and, surprisingly, June by the kitchen table of Trixie’s home, where she’s accompanying Trixie’s sister as she works on her art assignment, which is, apparently, bullshit. Katya laughs out loud. As a 'professional artist' she can't disagree with that. As a person very invested in weird shirts, she very much disagrees. 

Luckily, June and Katya have both gotten their own t-shirts to decorate. Katya has chosen to fill it with the beautiful Norwegian exclamation consisting of the beautiful Nordic letter “æ”. June has thus far only written the word “denial” in bold white letters on hers. 

“Will Dina be home for Christmas?” She asks now, biting the end of her marker, eyes big and brown like Trixie’s. 

Katya looks up from her glitter-cow and takes in the washed-out lighting from the kitchen windows where it falls across June’s dark hair. Except from the hair colour and height, Trixie’s family all look very much alike. Soft cheeks, that trademark nose, and those gorgeous, dark eyes. 

Scratching her neck Katya says, “I believe she will,” before she gives June a smile. 

“Good,” June replies, just as the softest and pinkest creature ever known to mankind walks into the room, a plastic bag from the convenience store over by Noah’s barn in her soft, pink arms. 

“I got cocoa stuff!” Trixie says loudly and brightly, dumping the bag on the kitchen counter. 

Instead of pulling up her own chair she just drops into Katya’s lap, pushing Katya’s glasses further up her nose with her still-chilled hand before turning her attention to the t-shirt masterpieces. 

“Ah. Denial. My kind of Thursday night.” 

"Is thanksgiving on a Thursday this year?” Katya murmurs into Trixie’s cotton candy, knit purple neck, to which Trixie replies with a shriek. 

“Old classic,” She says, just as Moo-Moo comes sashaying in from the living room. 

Lizzie gets up from her chair and picks up the cat, leaning against the counter. 

“Trixie, I've wondered, why’re you guys staying in Katya’s house?” She asks, nuzzling Moo’s neck. 

Trixie clears her voice as she throws her arm around Katya's shoulders. 

"Okay, so you know the birds and the bees, right?" Trixie says, and without looking at Liz's suddenly wide-open eyes she goes on. "Well, sometimes- ideally, if you ask me- it's just the birds, you know? And sometimes the birds would like to escape their prying siblings." 

June snorts, while Liza, on the other hand, looks about ready to throw up. 

"Too much information- way too much," she says, hugging Moo closer, making it to leave the room. 

"Wait, you've gotta say your wish for movie night tomorrow!" Trixie calls out after her. 

"Just not anything marvel, _again!_ " She shouts back. 

Trixie pouts at that, exchanging a disappointed look with Katya. 

"And you daren't put on Kiki's delivery service for the twentieth time, or I swear I'll-" they then hear faintly as Lizzie stomps up the stairs, to which the kitchen erupts in laughter. 

 

*  
The sun is shining weakly on the patches of brownish-green grass visible where the snow from last night has melted. The snow that's still there is covered in one set of tiny paw prints, and another, fresh one, following the tracks of Gram as he pads across the yard. Katya's sitting on the cold back porch, amusing herself with making the steam from her cup of cocoa rise to her glasses, fogging them up for a moment or two at the time. The air is slightly cold, and Katya, although she would never admit it, is very pleased with her choice of stealing Trixie's turtleneck. It's warm, smells like apples and fabric softener, and the sleeves are too long for her, so she manages to hold the cup with sweater-mittens. Perfect. 

A low squeak from the back door sounds as Katya closes her eyes a little, waiting for Trixie to sit down next to her. 

As she does, she says, "has anyone told you you're adorable?" 

Katya hums into her warm mug, opening her eyes slowly. 

"Way too rarely," she replies, "is that an opinion of yours?" 

Trixie adjusts the baby blue blanket she's wrapped in, takes a sip of her own cocoa before saying, "yep. Change my mind and I'll be surprised." 

Katya grins and scoots closer to her best friend, using one hand to throw some of the blanket over herself. Trixie's eyes are distant, looking out across the yard where Gram's still amusing himself with the snow. Katya lets her own eyes rest at her girlfriend, which always feels like taking a deep breath of fresh air. Her skin has been glowing lately, even without the help of the very absent November sun, and she shines like she did when they were teenagers. Right now, her hair is partly in an up-do, frizzy, loose pieces all around. She grabs Katya's hand where it's resting in her lap and twines their fingers together, eyes still fixed on a point in the distance. 

"Last time I was here, the memories haunted me," she says, her voice strong, but soft, "I mean, they followed me everywhere." 

Katya doesn't know if she's supposed to reply, so she just squeezes Trixie's hand and drinks some from her mug. 

"And I wanted to live them again, you know?" Trixie goes on, a furrow between her eyebrows as she says, "and that's a really bad feeling. I think you know what I mean." 

Katya nods, licking sweet chocolate off her lips. 

"It felt like I'd made all the wrong decisions up until then, and so I was doomed. But I wasn't doomed, was I?" 

Katya shakes her head at that, thinking Trixie was going to go on with her train of thought, but she doesn't say anything more. She just looks over at Katya, says, "you've got whipped cream on your nose." 

Katya gives Trixie a wink, not very concerned about having whipped cream on her nose, as to which Trixie replies with a laugh. With her short-nailed index finger Trixie wipes the cream off the tip of Katya's nose before placing it on her lips, leaving a white stain on the soft, pink curve of her bottom lip. 

"You've got something on your lip," Katya says before leaning forward, placing a kiss on her best friend's mouth. She tastes like cinnamon and chocolate and sweet, whipped cream. 

They break apart as a fluffy ball of black curls comes tumbling up the porch steps. 

"Gram! You lovely gentleman! How are you, my boy?" Trixie says to the dog, putting down her cup so she can ruffle his fur, to which he replies with wagging his tail energetically. 

Katya leans her head against the big dog, closing her eyes for a second. 

"Remember that time we were drunk on tequila and wine coolers and we ran into Gram in the yard? And he barked so much we got busted, so we both got grounded for four weeks?" Katya asks, looking up at Trixie. 

Trixie puts her palm to her forehead and nods, shaking her head a little at their stupidity. 

"What were you rambling about then, do you remember?" 

"I don't- no wait, was that the time with the disco eggs?" 

Katya laughs and nods, says, "you and those horrible disco eggs." 

Trixie sticks her tongue out at Katya, giving Gram a pat on the head. 

"We will name our first-born Disco Eggs," she says confidently. 

Katya laughs for a while, wheeze strong, before she says, "no. They shall be named Suburban Housewife Mattel." 

"Stop joking around. I'm dead serious. Disco Eggs Zamolodchikova-Mattel." 

"I can picture the scenarios," Katya replies. "Stupid, highly uneducated people asking, 'what are disco eggs?'" 

Trixie nods solemnly. "We'll teach our child to reply that only God's chosen ones know what disco eggs are." 

Katya starts laughing so hard it ends up in a coughing fit then, and Trixie just looks at her with an adorable smirk on face until she finally manages to get out her words. 

"How does it feel to be God's only chosen one to ever walk on this planet, Trixie Mattel?" 

 

* 

_“Without love, where would you be now?”_

The catchy guitar tunes and the signature vocals stream out of the tiny, old radio, filling the kitchen to its best ability. The whole room smells like spices and onions, the whirr from the stove soft and warm. Katya’s sitting by the kitchen table, opposite of her mom who’s humming along to the song, chopping cilantro to the rhythm. Her dad is stirring the pots in a very dad-like fashion. 

“We should become vegetarians permanently, don’t you think Katya?” He asks over the music, nodding his head to the tune, shaking his hips very, very offbeat. So offbeat even Katya can tell it's offbeat. Which is quite impressive. 

Katya smiles, shooting her mother a questioning look. 

“How does that sound, mom?” 

Her mom replies with shaking her head intensely, followed up by a loud, “why don’t you set the table, honey?” 

Katya laughs a little as she gets up and over to the cupboard. 

“How many are we?” She asks, picking up a couple of plates. 

“Elizabeth is over at her friend’s house, I believe, so I think we’ll be six then,” her mom replies. 

When she’s done setting the table, some noise from the front door alerts Katya of the arrival of their 'guests'. If you could call them guests, that is. Walking over to greet them she pauses at the sound of a conversation, leaning her head against the doorframe of the bathroom door. 

“I never got the chance to thank you for that. I mean-hadn’t you told me to send that card, I might have missed my chance. And without Katya, I have no idea what- 

Trixie's voice is low, yet full of emotion, which always cuts to Katya's core. 

"Oh, my Daisy, how would we get by without a little bit of magic?" Trixie's mom replies. 

When Katya walks into the hallway they're hugging tightly, and Trixie's looking so incredibly soft, so soft Katya feels that warm, calm feeling spread through her body. Trixie only looks that way around the people she loves the most. Katya doesn't have any words to describe how happy she is that she's one of those people. 

 

* 

The soup Katya's parents have made is very good, and Trixie and she keep exchanging content looks. Although the radio's turned off now, the 70's song is stuck in Katya's head. She doesn't mind, really. She gets a little lost, feeling the warm, rich soup on her tongue, the sound of chattering mixing with the guitar riff in her head. That's why she jumps out of her skin when Trixie suddenly says her name. 

"Huh?" 

Her girlfriend sighs with a smile, leaning a little bit closer over the table, as if that's going to help get Katya back to the earth. 

"We've got some kinda big news, haven't we?" She says, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head like she's giving a secret sign. 

Katya scratches her head, thinks for a few seconds, then says, "okay. So, this is hard to tell you guys," she locks eyes with each of the people around the table. They've all got expressions of varying confusion and interest, June placing at the lower end of that scale. 

Katya clears her voice loudly. 

"We got accidently pregnant." 

Her dad, Trixie's mom and June all laugh. The remaining two don't really bother Katya. Not everyone can get the heavenly pleasure that is mediocre jokes. She doesn't even bother getting an annoyed look and a sharp kick in the shin from Trixie. What can compare to the sweet kick of her long-time lover. 

"Katya, seriously," she says to Katya before directing her eyes to the rest of the table, "okay, so-" 

"We're renting half a cow in Oklahoma. Please don't prosecute us." 

Trixie doesn't even turn her attention to Katya for one more second before she goes on. 

"We're getting our own place!" 

The excited claps and outbursts from the others leave a pleased smile on Trixie's lips. Katya can't help but grin at her, to which her girlfriend replies with sticking out her tongue. 

It's not that big of a deal, perhaps; just a small apartment they're going to rent not far from Shea's gallery- where Katya is a steady collaborator- and closer to the hospital. It's got a functioning everything and a sufficient amount of windows, and honestly Katya thinks it's going to magnificent. 

 

*  
What is magic? 

Is it a trick? A flick of a hand? A white rabbit pulled out of a top hat? 

There are probably thousands of definitions. 

Katya doesn't care much about them. 

She's got her own thoughts and beliefs. 

To Katya, magic is how some things will always make you laugh. It's how things sometimes just work. It's how anything can be art to one single person. 

And it's how everything can go to shit, right to fucking hell, but still, it gets better. There is still always sunlight and rain and rainbows. That's magic. 

 

* 

Trixie's smile has the warmth of a summer day and carries the hopes of spring rain. 

When Katya tells her this, she laughs, stretching her arms over her head where she lies on top of the bed sheets like a cat. 

"I'm not joking. That’s a beautiful description. I am a poet, am I not?" 

At that her girlfriend raises her eyebrows sceptically, blowing a piece of curly hair out of her face. 

Fake-pouting, Katya sits down next to her, the springs in the bed squeaking. 

Outside the sun is setting, the sky orange and pink all over. 

The best thing about Katya's old bedroom is that, for one, the window faces towards the forest- which means no awkward neighbour insight- and, the window itself is big, letting in lots of light. Right now it lights up the wooden floor, begging Katya to bask in its warmth. Yet, she stays put on the soft mattress. 

"Do you ever wish we hadn't gone through all that shit?" 

Six months ago, Katya wouldn't have dared to ask that question. Mainly because she'd been afraid it would eventually end in an intervention where the main subject was all the ways Katya had fucked up. Then again, six months ago Katya wouldn't even let herself dream about even kissing her love. 

"I feel like I could say both yes and no and it's still justified," Trixie replies, looking up at the ceiling, her profile all soft and blurry. 

Only Trixie knows Katya well enough to understand what she's trying to say through a simple badly formulated sentence. 

"Yes, because if I could spare us the hurting, the anxiety, the everything- I mean, it wouldn't be weird to want that, would it?" 

Katya doesn't know if shaking her head or nodding will show that she agrees, so instead she lays her hand on Trixie's ankle. Weird choice. You don't usually go around touching people's ankles. It's warm and it's Trixie, so Katya doesn't mind. 

"But, and I've thought a lot about this, I honestly think we wouldn't be us without the past that we've got." 

She nods to herself where she lies, a content look on her soft face. When she turns her head so she can see Katya she lets out a long breath. 

"So, I guess, no." 

"No," Katya replies. 

They look at each other, brown eyes locked with blue-green ones, for who knows how long. Sometimes time doesn't work well. Katya only breaks the glance when suddenly she gets a very specific urge. 

"Dance with me," she says, getting up and grabbing Trixie's hand. 

Trixie huffs out a 'I'm not very surprised, yet very surprised' laugh, but she lets Katya drag her to her feet. 

"This is going to be my life, and I tell you, I do realise that," she says, wrapping her arms around Katya's waist. 

The fading sun plays across the side of her face as Katya pulls her closer, arms around her best friend's neck. 

Placing a kiss on her lips she asks, voice low, "and what d'you think about that?" 

Trixie smiles. 

"I think it's gonna be magical."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, my dear friends, that's it for this story!! <3 
> 
> i adore talking to you, and i'd love to get to know you, so please talk to me here or over at tumblr! 
> 
> thank you so much for all the love and support you've shown me, you guys are honestly amazing!! i hope i'll see you around for the next story! :'D
> 
> love, marie

**Author's Note:**

> ( my tumblr-- [@predictableplottwist](https://predictableplottwist.tumblr.com/) )


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